Severed
by Eboni
Summary: When a premature separation experiment leaves Dilandau weak and disoriented, his Dragonslayers must protect him from himself and unexpected enemies from within the country they are sworn to protect. Warning: Shounen ai
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: Hello, this is my first Escaflowne fan fiction, and I hope you guys like it. I just viewed the anime a month or two ago, and fell in love. I love to write about my favorite fandoms, and decided I wanted to try an Escaflowne one. I'm trying to be very original with this one, so please tell me if it sounds like something you've heard too many times :). I hope you enjoy it, and will review!**

  
  
  
  


Severed

By: Eboni

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Prologue

  
  


"Try not to move against the restraints, it will only hurt you more," gentle hands rested upon his brow massaging the cool, clammy, tender skin under its fingertips. The voice was soft and feminine, its tone was no more than whisper but the faint melody that could be distinguished from it was beautiful. 

He struggled to open his eyes... he was so weak... Slowly his eyelids parted and through his cloudy vision he glimpsed an angel, an angel with soft flaxen curls that just touched her shoulders and large blue eyes. Her gaze was kind, caring. He stretched the muscles of his face to form a frown of confusion, had anyone ever looked at him that way before? No... no one, ever. Who was she, who was this girl? 

"I'm Celena," she whispered, lowering her lips to his ear. Her breathe was warm and comforting. It was very cold, and he could not remember the last time he was able to feel any of his limbs. 

Celena? Who was Celena? 

"You don't know of me, but I know of you Dilandau."

How?

"I've always been with you, I've been part of you. I saw through your eyes, I breathed with your lungs, I felt what you felt."

Pain...his head...

"We're one and the same, we were born of the same womb, and shared one body. We're twins Dilandau, I'm your sister."

I have no family.

"You have me, you've always had me."

Then why don't I know you.

A sharp intake of breath came from her, and he felt the palliating warmth of he closeness retreating from him. 

No! Don't leave me alone... He hated being alone... It was cold, it was dark, and They would be coming back. Celena? Please Celena.... S...sister. Come back.

"I have to go Dilandau..."

But...you said you were always with me... You can't leave!

"They've separated us Dilandau. We can never be together in that way again...but... I still feel you Can you feel me, Dilandau?"

He shut his eyes briefly...could he feel her? Her fingers were gone from his skin....but... A brush of warmth touched his mind, and he smelled a faint hint of jasmine. The aura was tranquil and cool, its touch loving and gentle. Celena?

"Yes... Yes, that's me Dilandau. I must go. They're going to take you away from here soon. Remember me, please remember me."

Celena...

"We'll be together again one day."

She was leaving the room, he could hear her footsteps receding, he heard the soft swing of a heavy door opening and quietly being closed. He reached for her essence once again in his mind... he wasn't truly alone as long as he could feel her. He caressed the fine aura the girl had left behind. She was still there, though she couldn't speak to him, she was there. 

Celena...her name was Celena. He had family after all. 

His foggy mind ignored the other strange information the apparition of a girl had supplied to him. She'd said they'd shared a body...that they had been separated... Perhaps she was crazy, it wouldn't surprise him if she was. The Madoushi drove many mad. But the love he felt coming from her, her aura, the way she knew his questions without him speaking a word aloud... 

He heard the door opening again, and felt his muscles tense...it was Them. He clutched Celena's aura tightly and kept his eyes closed... Don't leave me alone with them Celena, don't. 

"The process was a success," purred a low voice.

"The girl is making better progress. She wasn't as disoriented."

"The host never is..."

"I still say we've done it too early. Is he truly strong enough to survive such a premature separation procedure? He's too young."

"This is our Dilandau Albatou we're talking about here. If anyone can survive it, he will. If he dies, we'll know better for our next Alteration, but it will be shame to lose such a beautiful specimen."

"Is he awake?" 

"We'll soon find out."

The clattering of a cart being pushed with many metal tools rattling on top of it invaded Dilandau's senses. An intense light was turned on above his head, even with his eyes closed the light was blinding, and its heat alleviated some of the chill from the room, but not in the peace bringing way Celena had. He opened his eyes to see three Sorcerers hoovering above him, one holding a large hypodermic needle, another holding a long metal rod. No...No...NO! 

Where were his Dragonslayers? Where was Folken? Where was...Celena? 

He pulled her aura tight to him, but it still wasn't enough... he was still alone. He finally found his voice and screamed as he felt the thin blanket draped over his legs being lifted, and felt the icy steel of the rod probing the sensitive area between his legs, then his backside before finding the rectal entrance. 

"Look, it would appear he is awake."

"Relax Dilandau, it won't hurt if you don't fight it..."

"No..."

"Insert."

"CELENA!!"

Don't leave me alone...don't leave me alone! 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Well you're on Chapter 1, so I'm hoping I caught your attention. Thank you for giving this story a chance :). Please review and take care!**

  
  
  
  


Chapter 1

  
  


"Hurry up dimwit, Lord Dilandau is due back within the hour!" Miguel snapped at his fellow comrade in arms, Viole, as he licked the last of his meal from his index finger. Miguel scowled at the disgusting act, but did not opt to tell the other boy to grab a napkin because his words would go unheeded. 

Viole smiled at Miguel, his blue eyes sparkling with jest. He knew proper Miguel found his table manners atrocious. He eyed the brunette Dragonslayer, noting the way he kept his short brown hair neatly kempt, and parted to let partial bangs fall into one of his blue eyes. Viole ran a hand through his own wavy dark brown hair, not caring if he mused it. 

Miguel almost growled at Viole's teasing expression and grabbed him by the arm, "Lord Dilandau will not be getting a good reason to back hand me on his first day back." He proceeded to drag Viole from the cafeteria. They traveled the long halls of the floating fortress Vione until they reached the hangar where the other 13 Dragonslayers stood in wait for their commander's return. 

Miguel and Viole pushed through the lower ranks of the specialists to stand among the elite at the head of the receiving line. Gatty stood at the head of the line, being Dilandau's right hand man, and first in command in his absence. The tall blond stood proud, his blue eyes shining, he'd continued on with the training of the soldiers in his lord's absence, and could not wait for him to view the improvements. Next to Gatty, stood Shesta, the angel-face Dragonslayer, and also Dilandau's second in command. Shesta looked gentle and innocent with his shiny blond hair falling into his wide blue-green eyes. His expression was open and fair, but the boy had nerves of steel, and was known to stand up to Dilandau and assert an opinion when their temperamental commander was in the vilest of moods. Guimel was next to Shesta, yawning openly, blue eyes half open. His golden curls bobbed as he moved his head to an imaginary beat, that was obviously annoying the dark haired Dallet who stood beside him. Dallet kept shooting piercing chocolate glares in Guimel's direction. Viole moved next to him and ruffled Dallet's chin-length brown hair, "How late did you two stay up last night?"

Dallet rolled his eyes over to Viole after bopping Guimel over the head with an open hand, "The sun rose as we climbed into bed. The second I closed my eyes, Gatty was knocking on the door yelling at us to get up. Sergio and Andre are hopeless, I don't know what got into Lord Dilandau when he chose them to join us. I swear they both act like they've never SEEN a sword in their lives."

"But they're damn good Guymelef pilots," Viole interjected. "They can learn sword play as they go along, right now piloting skills are what's most important."

"But if they can't handle a sword on foot, how will they handle one in a Melef unit? I'm aware they haven't actually been out with us yet, but I wouldn't want them to be my back up when they do go! And I don't want them out there flanking Lord Dilandau; they're horrible!"

"And how much do you wanna bet he knows this...and knows you guys are going to try to train them twice as hard to make sure they are up to par to guard him?"

Dallet frowned, then sighed, "If I have to go without sleep for colors, those bumbling idiots will be fit to fly with Lord Dilandau, or I'll kill them myself to make sure they don't get the chance to mess up."

Miguel arched an eyebrow at hearing Dallet's testimony, "Well then Sergio and Andre better hope they start to show much improvement, from what I've seen I'd advise you to keep your sword very sharp for you will be killing them soon."

"Is that all you ever talk about? Killing people?" Guimel yawned again, and peered down the line at Viole and Miguel in greeting. 

"We're talking about Andre and Sergio."

"Oh..Kill them, put US out of our misery," Guimel grumbled. "I hope Lord Dilandau doesn't make us run drills when he gets in, I'm so tired I'LL look like Andre and Sergio."

"Soldiers are supposed to be at their best at all times, Guimel," Gatty's ear was in the conversation, though he'd seemed oblivious, and lost in thought. "You should be able to get by with no sleep at all for days."

"I HAVE!" Guimel groaned. "You should be training them, Gatty."

"The commander is not a one on one personal trainer," Gatty said superiorly.

"You're not the commander, you're just a stand in," Guimel argued. "Those kids need help, and while Lord Dilandau may be pleased by the advancement in skill made by the elite and second string, he will be displeased with our newest recruits' lack of betterment."

Gatty flushed, and his chest puffed out indignantly, "I delegated the job of training the rookies to you two. If you were incompetent, you should have let me know."

"Incompetent?!" Dallet who previously wasn't in the argument flared, "Lord Dilandau himself couldn't train those clumsy oafs!"

"Lord Dilandau can train anyone. He trained you, didn't he?" Shesta intervened, his blue-green eyes cutting and sharp. He stared Dallet down, before facing forward again. 

The argument died down at that. Dilandau, though harsh, was an excellent swordsman and trainer. Most of them had never been formally trained in the arts of warfare, and it was Dilandau who shaped and molded them to warrior's perfection. The road had not been an easy one for any of them, but it was still hard not to slight those who came after them who were working just as hard as they had to get to the elite level they now stood at. 

"Once upon a time, you were Sergio, Dallet, and Guimel, you were Andre," Shesta said quietly. "I think you're doing a great job training them, and I commend you for staying up to help them during resting hours. I do see a little improvement on their parts."

"Yes, at least now they don't cut themselves with their own swords while trying to fend you off," Miguel chuckled darkly, ignoring the searing look from Shesta. 

Their banter ended abruptly as they heard the approaching sounds of an airship and the large doors to the docking bay opened. Heavy winds from outdoors and from the airship whipped their hair wildly about their heads, and Viole couldn't help but laugh at the annoyed expression on Miguel's face as his perfect hair was mused. 

The large military airship docked itself, and the elite nodded to one another and moved toward it to intercept their commander. The portal door to the ship opened, and Lord Folken Strategos stepped out first, his solemn presence tall and intimidating. He stood like a pale, dull haired statue in his long black robes, a single tattoo of a purple tear staining the area just below one of his eyes. He glanced at the elite team cooly, giving them no greeting. The team bowed to the Strategos, then dropped to one knee as their commander's tall form exited the ship stepping onto the dock. 

Dilandau Albatou was tall for his 15 years and handsome, with skin smooth and light as rich vanilla cream, and hair as silver as starlight parted down the middle and hanging down into his delicate face curling at its ends. He would have looked like a fallen angel, if it weren't for his eyes which were a deep magenta that looked crimson as they smoldered with flames on the battlefield. 

Dilandau stopped before the team, appraising each member, then walking past them calling Gatty's name as he continued to stride. Gatty was on his feet and jogging after Dilandau immediately, undoubtably eager for Dilandau to ask about the status of his troops. 

"He looks thinner," Shesta commented after Dilandau had left the hangar with Gatty in tow. They stood at attention as Folken passed by them, then shivered. "That guy still gives me the creeps," Guimel uttered to no one in particular, but smirked when the others agreed, even arrogant Miguel. 

"Well," Shesta looked purposeful, "Since Lord Dilandau and Gatty are away, I'm in charge, and say we should do our morning run through."

Guimel moaned, "You're just as sadistic as Lord Dilandau and Gatty..."

"And damn proud of it too," Shesta beamed, and winked. "Don't worry, I'll partner you with Dallet, and have someone else work with Sergio and Andre. Hmm, why don't you and Viole work with them today, Miguel." 

Viole bit his lip on a loud "Ha!" as Miguel practically blew steam through his nose, "Fine."

~*~~*~

  
  
  
  


"...and everything is still going according to your schedule. If the dragon were to appear today your elite will be ready to fly," Gatty finished his report as he followed Dilandau back to his chambers. Dilandau's rooms were simple, garnished with almost the same furniture bestowed upon the Dragonslayers if not a little more elegant. He had a full sized poster bed, a dresser, a full length mirror, a rich mahogany desk and chair set, and two high backed arm chairs fit for royalty, and two full sized closets. Attached to his suite was an adjourning bathroom with a full sized tub, glass shower, toilet, water closet, sink, and mirror. 

The Dragonslayers quarters were a bit smaller, the beds singles, for the elites bunked two to a room, and the lower ranking soldiers roomed three to a room. Their rooms consisted of two desks, two dressers, one full length mirror, two arm chairs and full sized closets. The only thing they lacked, that Dilandau was given the luxury of, was a private bath. They instead had a community bath down the hall from their rooms that consisted of 8 sinks, and 8 shower stalls, and 8 toilets. 

Dilandau nodded along as Gatty had read his report, eyes flaring at certain points then calming. He moved about the room inspecting his things, making sure no one had disturbed anything. Once he was satisfied he turned to Gatty who stood at attention awaiting an order. "Progress reports on Andre and Sergio."

"They are under the instruction of Guimel and Dallet sir. They've been working night into day, but still show no significant improvement in their sword fighting technique. Their Guymelef piloting is exceptionally good though."

Dilandau narrowed his eyes, as he moved closer to Gatty who was beginning to pale, "Dallet and Guimel? Why aren't you instructing them Gatty?"

"Sir, I was busy with the other soldiers. They simply needed too much work and would require too much of my time, so I delegated the task to Guimel and Dallet. They are both highly skilled, and capable of training a..." 

Dilandau's hand slapped across Gatty's face quicker than lightning, and he smirked at the blossoming redness on his first in command's peach flavored cheek, "You should never be too busy to train those greatly in need of your assistance, Gatty. From what you've told me, Sergio and Andre are unfit soldiers, and would not be eligible for a battle situation like they should be. It is your responsibility to make sure every player on this team is competent when you are commander. Was I wrong to make you my first in command Gatty? Perhaps the job should have gone to Dallet or Guimel, since you have been letting them do your job for you."

"N...no Lord Dilandau. I...I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten so absorbed in other tasks. The team is as strong as its weakest players." Gatty hung his head a bit in subordination.

Dilandau stared at the top of the blond boy's head trying to control the rage that surged within him. He'd expected to be ready to fight when he returned, he expected to be able to call out the names of drills and have everyone under his command fully capable of doing them. Instead, he was going to have to work with soldiers at an elementary level, pushing back his plans. He sighed, and dismissed the humbled blond before him, shoving him out the door then slamming it in his face. 

He didn't want to have to deal with it right then... He made his way to his freshly made bed and flung himself down on it, as his head spun. Celena....

He could still feel her aura, it was dim, but still there. His last memory was of her touching his face, then he was aboard a ship with Folken. More blank spaces in his memory... He pounded his fists on the soft black comforter and screamed into a pillow he grabbed from the head of the bed to vent his rage. Damn Madoushi! He hated them. He threw the pillow from the bed, smiling as it crashed into a glass lantern sitting on his desk. The lantern shattered on the wooden floor, small glass slivers raining beautifully about the area. 

He let himself fall back onto the bed, his cold aching body begging him to crawl under the blankets, battle ready and all, and go to sleep. He supposed he didn't feel well, maybe he was sick. He'd never been sick before, so he didn't know exactly what to expect. He closed his eyes willing the pressure building in his head to leave him. 

But he couldn't go to sleep, not then. His Dragonslayers would be doing their morning run through, and he had to be there to note the improvements and things that still needed to be worked on. If his soldiers were not getting the morning off, neither would he. He grunted slightly, pushing himself up slowly onto his elbows. Why hadn't he realized he hurt so much on the trip back to the Vione? He recalled the silent trip, he'd been lost in a wintry daze then, his body so cold and numb he was surprised he was able to stand and walk like he did off the ship onto the deck of the floating fortress. 

He stretched his muscles delicately, wincing as they cried out for him to stop the torture. Straightening his jeweled tiara, he glanced at his reflection in the full length mirror. Still beautiful he noted, but as he crept closer looking into his own eyes he saw something that had never been there before. His fusia tinted eyes were dark with a bleakness that he couldn't fathom. It was like they knew something that he himself had yet to figure out. He scrutinized himself longer... she'd said they'd been one, and that the Madoushi had separated them. If that was so, shouldn't he see a difference in his appearance? Shouldn't he feel differently? 

There was no change in his appearance, nor his attitude. 

Celena. Who was she really, how did she really know him, and why did she make him feel so loved in her brief presence? Maybe she was just another ploy set up by the Madoushi to hurt him, to confuse him...

Damn Madoushi. They were always finding new ways to break him. Nice try, but he wasn't going to be tricked by them that easily this time. Celena was nothing to him, nothing.

But why did he still feel a strange sense of calm and security whenever he thought her name. Celena.

He whirled from the mirror then, eyes red with flame, he had soldiers to finish preparing for war. He'd brainstorm various ways to kill the girl later. Screw the Madoushi, and screw her too! He kicked over an arm chair on his way out, smirking as he heard it crash to its side. He wondered where Folken had hidden his matches... 

  
  
  
  


~*~~*~

  
  
  
  


Gatty was tempted to begin bashing his head against the wall of the training room. The two fencing before him were horrible. He cringed as he heard the clatter of yet another one of their blades hitting the floor before he could instruct them to start. He was getting a headache. He glimpsed Miguel, Guimel, and Dallet smirking at him from across the room where they fenced each other skillfully, taking occasional breaks to snicker at Gatty's misfortune. "No! Sergio, pick up your sword. Widen your stance! No, do it like I showed you before."

The clatter of a sword was heard yet again, and Gatty smacked a hand to his forehead wishing he'd struck Sergio instead. A little pain might help him to concentrate better... Dilandau was rubbing off on him. "Pick...it...UP! Now, aga...." A hand touched his shoulder and he turned to be face to face with Dilandau who didn't look pleased. 

"Lord Dilandau! I didn't think you'd be joining us today, seeing as you just got in a little while ago," Gatty said bowing quickly. 

Dilandau studied him for a moment, and Gatty felt himself tense. He was doing it on purpose, Dilandau knew he disturbed people when he stared at them. "Andre, Sergio... hajime!" 

Gatty jumped out of the way as the two rookie Dragonslayers began their clumsy dance with their fencing swords. He stood back with Dilandau who stood with his arms folded over his chest mentally taking note of every mistake the two before them made.

"Sergio is left handed," Dilandau commented dryly to Gatty. "Why didn't you correct his stance?"

Gatty blinked. He was? He hadn't noticed. Sergio might have said something instead of letting him be embarrassed in front of Lord Dilandau! "I...wasn't aware, sir. But it will come to be to his advantage if he can put up a strong front on both sides."

Dilandau frowned at him, "Matte!" The two dancers stopped, and turned to Dilandau for instruction, "Sergio, switch sword hands." He then moved closer to the boy to teach him a new stance better situated to his disposition. "Always play your strengths before your weaknesses, Gatty, or you may never get a chance to SHOW your enemy you can do it both ways."

"Yes sir."

"Go join Shesta, I'm sure he's gotten quite bored with disarming Viole," Dilandau ordered, his voice sounding preoccupied. 

"Yes sir," Gatty was glad to get away. Sergio and Andre were infuriating, and he didn't want to be there at the first sound of one of their swords falling and hitting the wooden floor.

"Shesta," Gatty called to the other blond, who was towering over a fallen Viole with his sword at his jugular. 

"Yes?"

"Lord Dilandau told me to join you. Viole, go partner with Miguel."

"But he, Guimel, and Dallet have a good three person round going. Can't we start one?" He tried to smile and look inviting. The look failed miserably as he was still shuddering under Shesta's sword that he'd yet to retract. 

"No. Go!" Gatty barked, and Shesta withdrew his sword. Viole grinned at them both, then went to tell Miguel he'd have to leave his erstwhile engagement. 

Shesta took a natural stance, "I didn't think Lord Dilandau would attend this morning."

Gatty attacked first, nodding as Shesta countered his blow, "Me either, he looked tired when he arrived."

"He still does," Shesta said, blocking another attack. "I know we've all discussed this before, but what do you think he does while he's with the Madoushi? He never looks well when he returns." He sidestepped Gatty, and claimed his victory. "Pay attention Gatty, that was much too easy."

"I've heard stories about the Madoushi, bad ones. Anything he goes and does there could not be good."

"I wonder why they make him go."

"Maybe he's ill."

"He only looks ill after he comes back from that place," Shesta threw off Gatty's attacks again. "Really Gatty, if I closed my eyes I could almost picture myself sparring with Viole again. Lord Dilandau should have sent Miguel over, at least he's serious."

"Miguel's too showy. Sometimes it provides an excellent distraction, but if his opponent is any good they'll cut him down in minutes."

"Guimel?"

"Too slow."

"Dallet."

"Too choppy."

"Me?"

"You shuffle your feet too much when you parry," Gatty commented promptly tripping Shesta and claiming his first victory. 

"Now that's more like it!" Shesta accepted Gatty's hand in pulling himself to his feet. The metal clatter of a sword striking the floor drew both of their attentions away from each other and toward Andre, Sergio, and a fuming Dilandau. 

After slapping the both of them, he then claimed Sergio's fallen sword, tossing it to him and snatching Andre's. He then went on the offense stabbing and swiping at Sergio. The boy's large brown eyes widened with fear and he attempted to block the attacks. Dilandau was going to back him into the wall very soon, and the ferocity of his onslaughts led his troops to believe he was out to spill blood. Sergio saw it too, for suddenly, his blocks were quicker, and he actually sidestepped one of Dilandau's thrusts and was able to get in a few attacks of his own. He made Dilandau take a few steps back before he was disarmed. 

Dilandau smirked at him, a manic gleam in his eyes, then looked about the room to see that all eyes were on he and Sergio. "All you needed was the proper motivation. Consider every practice a fight for you life, because if you EVER perform that badly again during one of my training sessions, it surely will be." 

He tossed Andre's sword back to him, and nodded to the two again as he stood back with his arms folded, "Hajime!"

Gatty stared wide eyed, "Well I'll be."

Shesta grinned, "See, all you had to do was scare the love of gods into them."

Gatty chuckled, "Well now that Lord Dilandau is back, hopefully I won't have to work with them again...nor Guimel or Dallet. I really do feel kind of bad, but those boy must have learned something. Sergio actually showed a little skill, rather than mad swinging and dropping his damn sword."

"Hmm, I wish you'd show a little skill," Shesta murmured as he feinted forward and Gatty stumbled backward.

"You couldn't handle it," Gatty bantered.

"Try me."

"You're on."

  
  
  
  


~*~~*~

  
  


"The attack on Fanelia will betide tomorrow evening," Folken said to Dilandau as they sat in the small common room at a table set for two. A slender bottle of wine sat in the middle of the table, the warm reddish glow of its liquid casting an odd light on the table's surface. 

"Very well. My men will be ready. I don't really feel the need to send out the entire regiment, though, for such a small backwater country. I will travel with my elite and a few of my second string Slayers."

"Don't underestimate Fanelia, Dilandau," Folken said calmly, laying his fork down across his empty plate, and taking a small sip of wine from his glass. 

"What is there to estimate Folken? Those people live like peasants, even the royalty. The citizens will probably thank us for leveling that pile of dirt and hay," Dilandau lifted his wine glass and swirled the cherry red liquid around fascinated by the small whirlpool he'd created. 

"Fanelia has prized soldiers..."

"Who fight with pitch forks and wagons," Dilandau snorted setting down the wine without tasting it. He tapped the table impatiently with his index fingers, "Come on Folken, tell me why you're really so keyed up about this attack. You've seen my men, you know they are sensational."

"The dragon is in Fanelia, Dilandau. I'm afraid you won't take the proper amount of caution."

Dilandau narrowed his eyes, "Are you trying to insinuate that you think I'm inapt?"

"No, I'm insinuating that I think you are impulsive and excitable."

Dilandau smirked, "Hmm, perhaps, but being impulsive and excitable is what's gotten me to the top of the ranks." He stood to leave, frowning at the slight feeling of disorientation he felt and placed a hand on the table to balance himself. 

"Are you alright?" Folken asked, his tone of voice never changing to reflect true concern, but then Folken's voice never changed to reflect any emotion what-so-ever. 

If the dark walls of the room hadn't been swirling, he might have been annoyed with Folken's question. Of course he was alright...or, maybe not. He sank back into the chair he'd abandoned trying to blink the dancing lights out of his line of vision. What was happening? The pain and nausea from earlier still hadn't subsided. He'd felt a little better after working with his Dragonslayers, but after the temporary adrenaline high had faded the unfamiliar feelings of weakness returned. 

"Dilandau?"

"I'm fine, Folken," the boy tried to snap bitingly, but his voice was too faint. Had his head ever hurt so much? 

Movement. Someone was moving behind him. His reflexes screamed to act, and snap the neck of the person sneaking up on him, but the pain screamed louder. "Try to relax yourself, Dilandau, I'm going to help you." 

"You're going to what? Leave me alone Folken..."

"Relax your muscles, you'll only feel a little sting."

A sting... what.. "Fol..." His body tensed as something sharp pierced the skin of the back of his neck. The disturbing darkness was washing over him again, the one that only ensued when They were coming. But...but he'd just been with them, he'd just done what they'd wanted. No! They couldn't be taking him back again! 

"Don't try to fight it, just sleep. You'll be alright. No one is coming to get you."

No... he pleaded silently as the world vanished, not again. Celena?.... J... Jajuka? Don't leave me alone. Please, don't leave me alone! 

  
  
  
  
  
  


~*~~*~

  
  


"Lord Dilandau is sleeping," Gatty said, after entering the rowdy soldiers' mess hall, and sitting down at the table reserved only for the fifteen Dragonslayers, and their captain if he decided to grace them with his presence at meal times. 

"Good," Shesta nodded, spearing a potato and tucking it into his mouth. "I saw him after practice this morning, and he looked about ready to collapse. Did you get a mission report from Lord Folken then?"

"Yeah, Fanelia in the morning," Gatty said eyeing what was on everyone's plates, and trying to get a taste in his mouth for what was being offered at the Dragonslayers' buffet table. They ate in the cafeteria with the other soldiers aboard the Vione, but they surely did not eat the same slop they did. Dilandau had seen to that personally after dining with his soldiers the first time and tasting the difference in the food he ate when with Folken or the other commanders, and what his men were being given to eat. He'd had their menus changed immediately to where instead of powdered military rations, they received fresh fruit and vegetables, and a fine selection of starches and proteins. 

The Dragonslayers reveled in the power their commander seemed to have. They had the best lodgings, best food, best communal bathroom, best hours in the training halls, and the best Guymelefs. The other, older, soldiers, of course, were envious of the privileges the young Dragonslayers got over them, and sometimes retaliated. They learned quickly that picking on anyone under Dilandau's command was a health hazard, to themselves. This lesson was mastered by the other soldiers three weeks after the Dragonslayers had arrived. One particularly burly solider in the Odyssey unit tried to teach a Second String Slayer to bow to him when he passed. Dilandau had broken the man's arm in three places before his commanding officer arrived to plead in his soldier's behalf. After that, no one would come within 5 ft of a Dragonslayer without breaking into a sweat, and they turned and found an alternate route if they saw Dilandau for weeks. 

"Fanelia is that small country swarming with all those damn land dragons, isn't it?" Miguel muttered, not looking excited about the upcoming mission. 

"We'll be in our Guymelefs, Miguel, I'd like to see a dragon take down an Alseides."

"I wouldn't," Miguel said darkly. He pushed his empty plate away from him.

"Lord Dilandau is probably going to summon us later in the evening after he's woken up."

"Are we going to go on with afternoon flight practice if he's still asleep?" Guimel asked lazily licking his spoon. 

"Of course we will! I'll lead it, like I have been for the past few days," Gatty said looking taken aback. "Lord Dilandau would not be pleased with us if we started to slack off a day before a mission."

Guimel sighed. He was looking forward to catching up on a few hours of beauty sleep. Damn that Andre and Sergio... he tensed, "Hey, do we have any idea who's going to be sent out? I doubt the whole unit is going to go on this raid... I mean, Andre and Sergio..."

He felt Dallet shudder beside him, "Oh gods no."

Shesta rolled his eyes, "I doubt Lord Dilandau will send out anyone but us, his elite. This job is to be quick and without signature. He won't trust anyone else but us to do the job properly."

Gatty agreed, "It will probably just be us in stealth mode. This should be easier than most of the practices we've had."

"Don't get overconfident Gatty, there's a reason the Strategos wants Fanelia leveled. They're harboring something big."

"The dragon?"

Shesta nodded, covering his empty plate with his napkin. "Do you think we'll have to fight this dragon in Fanelia?"

"We're Dragonslayers, Guimel, of course we'll fight it...if we see it. They'll have it hidden. So, I guess once Fanelia's buried, we'll have to dig it up."

"Sounds like fun, wonder if Lord Dilandau will join us."

"If it involves destruction, you know he'll be there," Viole chuckled. "I bet he could take down Fanelia himself without any of us."

"I bet he could," Gatty said. Nothing cheered their leader up like a good day of demolition, and there was no one better at destroying things than him. 

Even without Dilandau to gripe at them, the Dragonslayers finished their meals within 30 minutes, and went back to the training room to practice for 2 hours before bath time, meditation hour, which most used to play cards or finish up homework, and bed.

  
  
  
  
  
  


~*~~*~

  
  


Dilandau awoke late in the evening, groggy, damp, and in the solemn company of Folken. He sat up slowly massaging pillow creases off his left cheek, "Folken? What are you doing in my room?" And just when did he get to his room? He didn't recall coming there at all, after his meeting with Folken. 

"How are you feeling, Dilandau?" Folken answered his questions with a question.

Dilandau scowled, he hated being ignored. "I asked you two questions first, Strategos," he snarled. 

"I'm here watching over you, you've been having some rather disturbing dreams. You were screaming, Dilandau, I calmed you."

"You, what?" Dilandau ran a hand through his hair pulling it back into some semblance or order. His mouth felt dry, his eyes heavy... that sleep had been unnatural. 

"You seemed to quiet once you heard my voice...You kept mumbling about not wanting to be alone. So, I ask again, how are you feeling?"

"I don't know," Dilandau grumbled lying back down, " my whole body hurts, and I'm sticky." He wasn't exaggerating, even his eyebrows hurt. "You tell me what's wrong."

"You have a moderate fever," Folken said. "Your pains and elevated body temperature are more than likely to be effects of a virus."

"A what?" Dilandau stared incredulously. So he had been right earlier....of all the lousy, rotten times to catch his first illness, or rather the first he could remember. 

"Your men are waiting for you to give them their mission briefing."

Right... his Slayers... What time was it? He hoped he hadn't slept through their practice. "It's an hour before the lights out you instated for them."

The last he remembered was being with Folken at lunch time, he'd been asleep for that long? "How..." he blinked, then stared at Folken, "Have you been here with me for that long?"

"Almost, yes."

"Oh." He didn't know what to make of Folken's bedside manner, so he brushed it aside. He slid out of bed, frowning at his lack of armor. Someone had relieved him of his heavy costume, leaving him in the soft leather pants and cottony light lavender tank top he wore underneath. "Did you...?"

"You didn't really want to sleep in all of that armor?"

His hands felt his naked forehead for his diadem...gone. His fingers came away slick with sweat instead. He needed a shower, but he knew he'd have to brief his men first. If he didn't, he'd never get to them before their lights out. He didn't mind, and in fact loved breaking the rules of others, but he hated stepping over his own rules. He turned to glance at himself in his full length mirror, even from afar he looked like shit. 

"What orders are you planning on giving them?" 

Folken was still there? He barely turned to meet his eyes, "Just what you want Folken, take out Fanelia, find the dragon."

"Are you planning on accompanying them?"

"I'm only going to send my elite Dragonslayers, and yes I am going with them.."

"I don't think that's wise, Dilandau. You aren't well."

Dilandau narrowed his eyes, feeling rage rising to combat the feelings of weakness plaguing his body. "I'm fine, Folken." He walked to his first closet, throwing open the door to find his armor waiting for him expectantly. He dressed quickly, and moved into the bathroom to wash his face. The water he used was cold, and only resulted in making his teeth chatter along with the sudden chills he was beginning to experience. What the hell was happening...? He gazed up at his reflection again, his eyes were so hollow... The Madoushi had poisoned him, he just knew it! He ran his hands through his matted hair, feeling relieved when the silky tresses obeyed his hand and seemed to spring back to life. He looked like he'd just gotten out of the shower. Shutting off the water, he dried his face, and stepped back into his bedroom to find Folken gone. 

Good.

He found his diadem on his night table, and fastened it, smoothing his hair around it. His knees trembled a bit as he moved toward the door, and he had to will them to continue to carry him without stagger. He had business to attend to, and he never let anything get in the way of his business. Not even this...

Gods, what's happening...

*"I still say we've done it too early. Is he truly strong enough to survive such a premature separation procedure? He's too young."*

He braced himself against the door, as his body went cold. 


	3. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:  Thank you for the reviews J.  I didn't think anyone was going to read this.  Well here is chapter 2, I hope you enjoy it as well as you did the first two installments.**

Disclaimer:  No, no…and no.  

Chapter 2

Folken Strategos stood on the bridge of the Vione peering over the railing at the clouds swimming in the jewel blue sky below, his mind on Fanelia and the forthcoming attack.  He pictured the green hills and pastures of his native land, and could practically smell the crisp clean air, unlike the cool refrigerated air of the floating fortress, or buildings in Zaibach.  

Zaibach was a technologically advanced nation, far ahead of its neighboring countries in the areas of science and mathematics.  Children in Zaibach knew nothing of running in the open meadows, fresh air, or swimming holes.  They were brought up to live indoors with generated air, swimming pools, and gyms.  The only children raised to know the outdoors, were the ones chosen to be soldiers.  

Folken sighed, glad that he was not brought up as a child in Zaibach, but if he had been he would feel less anxious about what was about to happen.  The young man that had been him, that had grown up in Fanelia and loved its land, had long since perished.  He could never return to his old home again, he didn't belong there anymore.  But still...sometimes... his heart still lingered.  

His brother.

He tried not to think about the small raven-haired little boy he'd left behind 10 years ago.  He wondered how the boy had turned out.  Was he tall or short, fat or thin?  Was he shy and quiet, or loud and rambunctious?  What kind of a King would he be?  

Van.

He knew he would be seeing the boy again, soon, but they would not be reacquainted with one another as brothers.  No, no, they would be enemies, because he had become the man who ordered for his country to be sacked.  He would be the man that was trying to steal the dragon away from him.  He wanted the guymelef, Escaflowne, and he knew Van was not about to just hand it over to him.  

  


He stepped away from the railing, letting the wind ruffle his hair a bit, before moving back towards his own personal quarters.  He wasn't needed as of yet, and needed a glass of good wine as he tried to drown out his lingering guilt.  He ignored the various soldiers that fell to one knee bowing to him as he passed.  

He entered the long corridor that took him past the rooms of the Dragonslayers, and into the private hallway reserved for he and Dilandau... The whole hallway had once been all his, but he made room for Dilandau when he requested the presence of the Dragonslayers aboard the Vione.  Dilandau was a refreshing slap in the face to Folken.  He was rude, insolent, arrogant, cocky, and violent, everything Folken was not.  The young man, though extremely trying, amused Folken to no end.  He liked watching him at times, he observed how he behaved among other commanders, servants, superiors, and his own soldiers.  The silver-haired boy was snooty to the other commanders, but made sure to show brash displays of bad temperament to frighten them from speaking against him.  Servants, he treated as if they were invisible.  He bowed to superiors, but usually with an insolent smirk, or a demonic gleam in his eyes as he did so.  The only people Dilandau seemed to be civilized with, were his soldiers, though they also had to bear the burden of being the people who had to face Dilandau at his worst as well.  He watched the boy teach them in a manner that fully convinced Folken that the boy was gifted, he could probably teach an ape to sword fight with the best of them.  His soldiers received only the best; the best food, the best lodgings, the best training facilities, the best training hours, the best armor, and the best weapons.  No one but Dilandau was to lay a hand on his Dragonslayers, no one but Dilandau could ever talk against one of them.  The boy took care of his own, and in turn earned great loyalty from his men to him.  The Dragonslayers would no doubt ride to the end of Gaea and back for their Lord Dilandau.  When they gazed upon him the adoration and respect that shone in their eyes was blinding.  It was clear they loved their leader, but it was even clearer that their leader loved them.  His methods of discipline were harsh, sometimes brutal.  He yelled at them, berating them for poor performances, slapping them, or issuing punches.  But, what intrigued Folken, was the hidden meaning behind Dilandau's lashes of anger and frustration... he was afraid.  The boy had been trained by the best, showing nothing but aptitude and great confidence in his own ability...but this was the first squadron of soldiers he had trained, and he'd grown attached to them all.  He didn't want any of them hurt or killed, and so he worked them harder than any other team, and expected so much more from them in practice.  He wanted them to be the best, just like him; that way they could take care of themselves.  

He could hear the sounds of water running in the communal shower the Dragonslayers used, letting him know the young soldiers were preparing to go off on their first mission.  He suppressed a slight cringe, and quickened his steps, frowning and slowing a bit as he passed Dilandau's slightly ajar door.  Dilandau never left his door open.  There were small noises coming from inside, that Folken had to strain to make out.  He frowned slightly when he realized it was the sound of retching, and moved on to his own door.  

He slipped inside his dim room, and sat in an armchair.  A book was lying face down on the small table before him, it had been getting rather interesting before he'd had to put it down.  He didn't feel like reading right then though, not when within the hour Fanelia was to be attacked.  He really shouldn't care, he shouldn't be fretting over it. It was, after all, his call.  He straightened his shoulders, and after second thought, reached for the book.  

***************************************************************************************************************************

  


He sat on the cold bathroom floor with his knees to his chest trying to breath deep and even to lull the large waves of nausea washing over him.  His head throbbed as it rested against his knees, and the constant tremors running throughout his body wasn't helping the situation at all.  

It was getting worse.  

He groaned as his stomach gave a lurch, and moved to lower his head once again over the porcelain bowl.  He heaved and choked, but nothing was expelled for he had nothing more to offer to the porcelain god.  He felt horrible, like he was dying...

_"__This is our Dilandau Albatou we__'__re talking about here.  If anyone can survive it, he will.  If he dies, we__'__ll know better for our next Alteration, but it will be shame to lose such a beautiful specimen.__"_

He shuddered, the memory itself bringing on another bout of dry heaves.  

He wasn't dying, no, no, he couldn't.  He was Dilandau Albatou, and he still had plenty of things to do, Death would have to kindly wait.

"Lord Dilandau?"

He tensed at the voice.  Who dared to enter his room without his permission...but he couldn't exactly growl and deliver slaps with his insides trying to escape from his oral cavity.  He swallowed hard, and waited for the vertigo to pass before sitting back, and turning his head toward whomever had spoken to him.  "Are y... The team is ready, sir," Gatty stood in the doorway to the bathroom staring at him with a strange mix of concern, fear, puzzlement, and professionalism on his face.  Dilandau wanted to chuckle, he hadn't known such a combination was possible.  

The team was ready, and undoubtably waiting for him to join them, to lead.  This was what they had been training for, and here was their test run.  He shakily got to his feet, flushing the toilet, and walking toward Gatty who stepped out of his way.  He was only half dressed.  He hadn't had a chance to strap on all of his armor before the combined body pain, and nausea became too much for him.   He had spread the rest of his costume across the bed, and went to retrieve it.  A sharp pain doubled him over the bed, his face hoovering over the armor.  He heard Gatty make a small noise, but say nothing. Good soldier...

Another cramp...he bit his lip to stifle a moan.  He wanted to curl up into a little ball clutching his stomach, buried under a pile of blankets.  Fanelia, he reminded himself, Fanelia!  He tried to dredge up a confident smirk to meet Gatty with when he straightened, when another bolt of pain shot through him.  

Gods... 

"Gatty."

"Yes sir?"

"You're in charge of the raid on Fanelia today.  You will lead the others to the location, and destroy it."

"Destroy it, sir?"

"Did I stutter?"

"No, sir."

"Dismissed soldier...oh, and one more thing, Gatty."

"Yes sir?"

"Don't embarrass me."

  


"No sir!"  Gatty lingered a little longer before leaving, but Dilandau didn't bother to look up to meet the worried blue eyes of the blond.  After the door had closed, Dilandau stripped out of the armor he was wearing, and threw the armor he had yet to put on, on the floor.  He climbed into his large bed burrowing under his blankets; then curling into a tight fetal position.

***************************************************************************************************************************

"Gatty, you're back, alone.  How far is Lord Dilandau behind you?"  Shesta studied Gatty's preoccupied expression.

"He's not coming," Gatty said quickly to Shesta, then in a loud voice aimed to the other 4 elite Slayers, "Listen up, Slayers!  I'm in command this morning, and you will all be taking your cues from me.  The order is to destroy Fanelia, unless Lord Dilandau, Lord Folken, or myself say otherwise.  Any questions?"

"Yeah... where's Lord Dilandau?  I thought he was coming? He _has_ to come on our first mission; it's what we've all been working for," Viole was frowning. 

"He said he was coming last night.  Did Lord Folken summon him to do something else today?  That's rather rude of Folken if you ask me," Miguel said dryly.  

"That's _Lord_ Folken, Miguel.  Do not disrespect your superiors," Shesta snapped, then turned to Gatty.  "Is everything alright, Gatty?"Gatty had been uncharacteristically quiet as the other Slayers had complained about their lack of proper leadership.  He looked to Shesta, his mouth a pressed into a thin line, debating on whether he wanted to tell what he had witnessed or not.  Lord Dilandau was sensitive about showing weakness, and Gatty felt he was pleased when he entered the room and spoke as if  everything were perfectly fine instead of questioning his health.  He chewed his lip as he pondered over what he had seen.  

He'd knocked lightly on the door, because it was partly ajar.  When he'd received no answer he cautiously opened the door a little further to peer inside.  If Lord Dilandau was in the bathroom, he would leave and return in 10 minutes time.  The light to the bathroom was on, the door open.  Gatty had been about to leave when he'd heard the disturbing noises of someone being ill.  He couldn't just leave... though he probably should have, it would have been more respectful.  Instead, he went and stood in the doorway stifling the instinct to want to kneel beside his leader and offer him some comfort.  

What if something was seriously wrong with him?  Lord Dilandau wasn't the type to ask for help.  "Gatty?"

"E...Everything's fine, Shess, don't worry about it.  Lord Dilandau is taking care of other business, but..." he raised his voice so the others, who were listening in on their conversation could hear better, "that does not mean he doesn't care about our project.  He told me not to embarrass him, and I don't plan to; so get your butts in gear!  We'll be launching in 5 minutes!"  

The hesitant, "Yes sir"'s he got were good enough for him.  He watched everyone move towards their Alseides before entering his own.  He slide into the cockpit, strapping himself in and giving himself a short motivational speech.  Sure he could lead the troops in training sessions, and keep them in line when Lord Dilandau wasn't present, but could he lead them into real battle?  He needed Dilandau's confidence to lean back on.  He began to worry then, his captain had to know that.  He knew they needed him, and he'd had every intention of coming.  He wouldn't have changed his mind unless... Gods.  He should have went to Folken, and told him something was wrong.  Then at least someone would know, and maybe stay with him.  Dilandau had strange objections to being alone for long periods of time.  

  


It was too late to do anything now, he started as he heard the roar of many engines starting at once... T-45 seconds.  He jerked himself to attention, even if he wasn't fully self-assured about his leadership skills outside of a practice setting, he couldn't show those under his command that.  The hatch was opening... T-22 seconds.  

"All systems go," Shesta's voice crackled over his communicator, as did Guimel's, Dallet's, Miguel's, and Viole's.  

"Good."

T-6 seconds.  The Alseid was beginning to pulse with energy just waiting to be released into the open sky.  T-2....1......

He launched first, followed every 5 seconds by first Shesta, then Miguel, then Dallet, Guimel, and Viole.  They flew in an arc formation over mountains and hills to their destination, Fanelia.

Gatty took a deep breath as they drew nearer to the designated point of decent; I won't embarrass Lord Dilandau.  "Remember once you touch the ground switch to stealth mode."

"Yes sir," chorused over his speakers.

Alright... he began his decent, time to find us a dragon.

***************************************************************************************************************************

Van Fanel knelt decked in royal armor a trifle too big for his scrawny adolescent frame feeling slightly silly.  He gazed serenely upon the man presenting him with the royal Fanelian crest.  "Rise Van Slanzar Fanel, King of all Fanelia."

His helmet slid down over one of his eyes as he rose carefully holding the sword in both hands.  He wanted to grin, but he feared it would be inappropriate.  He stood with his back straight biting down on the insides of his cheeks to keep himself from beaming, as his people cheered for him.

King, he was King now.  He wasn't sure if he was ready, he wasn't sure if he wanted it, but he couldn't help the good feeling of accomplishment being coronated gave him.  He'd done what his father would have wanted, what his mother would have been proud of, and what his brother... never had.  He didn't have to bite down on his cheeks anymore, for the thought of his long lost older brother sobered him greatly.

His brother had gone out on the same quest he had to slay a dragon and bring back it's energist, but he'd never returned.  The people thought Folken had run away, to cowardly to own up to his birthright, but Van would always believe that he had died fighting the dragon he sought to slay.  His older brother would never run and leave he and his mother alone.  

His mother...she'd disappeared just like Folken had.  She'd gone to search for her missing son, and never came back.  Van was left alone to be raised by the servants of the castle, a life that left him feeling rather empty, abandoned really.  His father died, mother and brother disappeared, Van felt unwanted at times.  After all, if his own family could walk out on him, how could he expect anyone else to want him around?

He was very solemn now, and stood still as the people before fell to their knees in deep bows to him.  How much longer was this going to last, for he suddenly felt the need to be alone.  

"Attack!  We're under attack!" came a bellow from an approaching soldier.  All at once chaos seemed to break loose.  Van stood where he was, not joining the mad mob rushing about in a panicked frenzy.

  


"It's an invisible enemy!  We can't see a thing, but our forces are being taken out right and left!"

"An invisible enemy?" Balgus questioned. 

Van stood lost in the circle of arguing warriors, "Van," suddenly Balgus had him by the shoulders.  He wanted Van to fight, he thought he was battle ready, "go to the shrine and get the Escaflowne.  Then you take it, and the Lady Hitomi, and get to safety."

"What, and leave you?"  He couldn't run away from battle, true he was a little relieved he was being excused from having to fight, but it wasn't right.  This was his country, HIS country, and he was king!  "I can't abandon my country Balgus!" 

"Van, this is important, you will listen to me!  Get the Escaflowne..."

"I can fight in the Escaflowne..."

"No!  You get it, and you go, now!"   

"But..."

"Now!"

Van barely suppressed a growl, he looked up through the ill-fitting helmet to spy the young short haired girl from the Mystic Moon staring at him, her wide green eyes frightened.  He sighed deeply, he'd brought her into this, and she did not deserve to die there.  "Hitomi, come with me!"Together he and the strange girl ran to the shrine amiss the burning buildings, and screams of dying soldiers, and his terrified subjects.  He was pleased the girl had remained silent, and followed him without plaguing him annoying questions.  He pushed open the embellished doors to the shrine, and pulled the Drag-energist from his pocket.  Running his thumb along the side of his sword he sliced his thumb, letting his blood run over the mauve tinted stone.  He reached the center of the room, and held the energist high as it began to glow, "I, Van Fanel, king of Fanelia, bind myself by blood pact to thee, Escaflowne.  Thou sleeping dragon awake!"

The circular patterns on the floor began to turn as if being wound by an unseen hand, as an eery light encased Van's shape and rose to the ceiling where a large stone ornament hung.  Van an his guest watched as the Ispano Guymelef Escaflowne hatched from it like a baby chick from an egg.  Van stood back, studying it in awe for a moment before shaking himself and moving to place the energist in the dragon's magenta liquid cavity. His arm passed through the cavity as if it were water, and it shuddered like gelatin.  

Van stepped back and watched, quite pleased with himself and the energist began to pulse like a beating heat within the Escaflowne.  The great machine hissed and the hatch opened to admit him.  He was about to climb inside the cabin when the girl's voice stopped him.  He'd forgotten she was still there, "What are you doing?"

What did it look like genius?  "I'm going to fight them with Escaflowne.  Go hide or something..." he didn't have time for her right then.  In his mind he could still hear the screams of his soldiers and people, he couldn't just stand by and let his people die.  

"But Van..."

"Go hide!"

He climbed into the guymelef, liking the feel of the strong metal structures fitting around his arms, and legs.  It felt like the machine was made just for him.  The hatch snapped closed and relaxed inside, ready to fight.  He pulled the sword from its hilt, and held it in front of him getting himself use to its weight.  "Van, to your left!" Hitomi shrieked.  Was she still there?

  


"What?"  He whirled to the left, seeing nothing at first, then suddenly a large arm appeared out of thin air and fired metal claws at him.  He dodged just in time.  "Van, behind you!" He turned again to block another invisible attack.  She could see the enemy, but how?  

He continued to let her guide his movements, keeping her insight to protect her from falling debris.  "VAN!!" She was calling again, he struck and a large form hit the wall becoming visible for the first time.  "A guymelef," he breathed.  Now that it was visible he began to fight it with more ferocity.  So this was what was destroying his land?  This was the coward, he'd show him who he was dealing with.  The thing tried to fire his liquid metal claws at him again, and Van kindly relieved it of its member.  "Van behind you!"

Shit, there must be two in there with him, and still couldn't see the other.  He didn't have enough time to turn fully around to block...but then he heard a loud battle yell, Balgus?  Balgus leapt into the room bringing his heavy sword down onto the arm of the guymelef about to shoot out more metal claws right into the back of Escaflowne.  "Balgus!" Van cried.  What was he thinking, he had no guymelef?!  He would be killed.  

"Lord Van, take Lady Hitomi and leave this place!"

"Balgus no!"

"Your people need you Lord Van!  As long as you live, Fanelia has hope, go reunite the people of Fanelia!"Van felt his eyes grow wet, Balgus.... his teacher, his surrogate father... if he left the man would surely die.. But his country, Fanelia... he couldn't let himself be killed, not then, and Hitomi.  She had no one else, what would she do if he died... Biting his lip, he swung away from the enemy and lifted Hitomi with the massive hand of Escaflowne, then he ran....like a coward, away from battle, his mind crying out to Balgus.  

He ran out into the heart of the city, staring at the destruction.  The village was on fire, dead bodies littered the streets, the ruins were painted with blood that the bright orange flames licked at with hungry tongues. His gods....his gods.... 

There was a scream from Hitomi and he stopped, suddenly another large blue guymelef materialized in front of him, he turned to head the other way, but another blocked his path.  Soon 3 more had materialized, all ready to do battle.  He couldn't take on that many, especially if they could disappear...and not with Hitomi in his hand.  What to do?

Hitomi was wailing below him, and he wanted to roll his eyes, but that would result in him taking his eyes off of one of his enemies.  Maybe if he put Escaflowne in flight mode they just might be able to get away far enough for him to set Hitomi down somewhere safe, then he could fight.  He still didn't stand a chance in hell, but at least the girl would be out of the way for the time being.  He was about to set his plan into action when a strange light encased him and the Escaflowne.  It was the same light that had transported him to the Mystic Moon earlier!  He shut his eyes against the bright luminance, where was it taking them now?  

Anywhere but here, he thought.  Anywhere but here!

**Author's Note:  Well did you like it, hate it?  Think I should stick to Gundam Wing and Ronin Warriors?  Please review and let me know J **


	4. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thank you for the new reviews :). I save them all to a special folder, and read them when I get discouraged lol. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy this chapter!** 

Chapter 3 

__

_"Get up, and do it again!" the tall man with the thick red beard yelled, Master Kraus. _

__

_The small silver haired boy stood slowly, forcing his knees not to knock together. He was tired, hungry, and dizzy. His head was still spinning from the time it had struck the stone wall, and his vision had gone dim. "Stand ready Dilandau! What if this was a real attack? What if someone really had you alone? You would be dead right now!" The large man charged him again, and Dilandau did his best to avoid being hit, he ducked between the man's legs, and gave a push from behind sending the man sprawling forward. He tried to turn, to not have his back to the enemy, but he was too woozy. It was all he could do not to throw up, much less stand and fight. He fell to his knees, and shuddered with fear as he heard the man's footsteps nearing him. The large shadow loomed over him, glaring down at him in disgust. Pain exploded in the small boy's chest, as Master Kraus's foot connected and fractured ribs. "Weak," he spat, "useless..." _

__

_Darkness threatened to conquer the child, and he was ready to give in to it, he just wanted to lie down..._

__

_"No, get up. Get up now you little wretch!"_

__

_"But Master..."_

__

_"Get up!" he was savagely kicked again, and again, until.... _

__

_We have to do something, Dilandau..._

__

_You? Who are you?_

__

_We have to stop him, he's mad._

__

_We?_

__

_He's going to kill us!_

__

_Us? _

__

_DO SOMETHING!_

__

_Too much yelling was going on, and it was making him sick. He looked up, just as Master Kraus was about to step on him, and saw the silver glint of a dagger in his boot. Swiftly he drove his little hand towards the hilt of the small blade, tugging at it for all he was worth, and rolling out of the way of the killing blow of his Master's foot. The dirk came free._

__

_Do something!_

__

_With the last of his strength Dilandau stood, and willed every ounce of energy left into his right arm as he plunged the dagger deep into his Master's back. He fell back on his behind as his Master choked and staggered around the room, his hands reaching aimlessly toward his back, fingers scurrying to find the blade buried deep inside his flesh. Dilandau sat, his breathing wet and ragged, blood spattered over his tunic and leggings, on his face. Black spots danced in his field of vision, but he refused to let them win until he saw his Master die. He had to be sure he was dead._

__

_You killed him, Dilandau._

__

_Who are you?_

__

_You did good._

__

_The man finally dropped, and Dilandau allowed himself to faint, but not before asking again, Who are you? Where are you?_

__

_Sleep, Dilandau, we're ok now, you can sleep._

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ 

He was awakened by a slight knocking at his door. He sat up slowly, his head still ached but his stomach had settled to only a slight burning. "What?" he bellowed, unless it was important he was staying right where he was, Folken could kiss his ass. 

"The elite team is back, sir." 

Dilandau's eyes widened, the elite team was back...Fanelia! By the gods, he'd sent them out alone to Fanelia. Quickly he got out of bed, ignoring the swirling colors of vertigo, and strapping on his armor. He brushed out his hair hastily before fastening his diadem, and throwing open the door. He'd been out of his mind that morning... he should have had the attack postponed. He'd sent them alone, with Gatty in charge? They'd never been in real battle, none of them. They could fight, he knew they could, but they would have needed him to be there for their first battle even if he just stood back and watched. How could he correct them on the field if he wasn't there? He planned on sending them out on missions without him, eventually, but not then! 

This sickness, whatever it was, was going to have to go away. He was going to have to make it go away, or ignore it, fight it, something. It was impairing his better judgement. He passed Dragonslayers in the hallways, some half clad in armor, hopping around looking for boots or shoulder pads. They all quieted at the sight of Dilandau and saluted. 

He struck the ones standing at attention half dressed. It had to be early afternoon, why weren't they dressed? No excuses....they would all be staying up late running extra laps, doing push ups, sit ups, and lifting weights. "What are all of you doing standing around like a bunch of lazy idiots?! Just because you had no orders for the morning, does not mean you are to be slothful and lounge around all day in your underwear! TRAINING HALL NOW! You are to do your morning AND evening run through, TWICE!" 

"Yes sir!" 

"Go!" Half dressed slayers tried to get to their rooms to finishing clothing themselves. "Did I tell you, you could go back to your dorms to finish getting dressed?" 

"No sir." 

"Then WHERE are you going? The Training Hall is THAT way! Next time, you'll know to be dressed. Nice boxers, Tristan."Dilandau glowered as underdressed slayers marched passed him toward the gym. "Biore, stay!" A nervous dark haired slayer stopped where he was, his back stiff with tension, "Where is my elite team?" 

"In the hangar sir," Biore was still in his navy blue briefs with a thin white sleeveless undershirt. 

"Tell them to come to the throne room where I'll be waiting," Dilandau smirked as the boy blushed at having to walk about the Vione in his underwear, and flash his underwear to the elite. "Yes, Lord Dilandau." 

He swiftly made his way to the throne room, and claimed the high backed chair. The room was dim, lit with only gas lanterns. He relaxed against the rich velvet of the cushions, willing his headache away, and cursing the increasing pain in his stomach as he worried about the state of his elite team. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ 

"Damn Shes... that guy really did a number on your Alseid, Lord Dilandau's gonna kill you," Viole stared at the severely damaged melef unit, then at Shesta who nodded sadly in total agreement. "He's not going to be very pleased at all, but mine doesn't look nearly as bad as Dallet's." 

They both winced as they glanced over at Dallet's armless, crippled unit, "Lets just hope he's in a good mood." 

"Lord Dilandau in a good mood after knowingly missing a fight?" Guimel sounded incredulous, "Yeah right, you'd have better luck trying to convince Refina to have sex with you, Viole." 

"Hey! I'm working on her," Viole huffed. "One day you'll see- More than you wanna know, whoa Biore! Nice undies, man! Lose a bet?" 

"Slept in, all of us. Lord Dilandau was in his quarters all morning, and you were all gone, so we thought we had the morning off...." 

"And he caught you guys lounging around in your boxers," Viole laughed. "Oh man, and you're still walking?" 

"Double training sessions in our underwear... Anyways, he wants all of you in the throne room, now." 

Viole's good humor vanished as he gulped and looked to the others. Shesta and Dallet were pale, 

"Um...did he sound...mad...when he asked for us?" 

"Well yeah..." Biore began, but quickly added, "but I think it was mostly because he was so pissed with the rest of us." 

"Great," Guimel groaned, "you guys just went and put him in a bad mood." 

"How did he look?" asked Gatty, and Shesta quickly noted that his expression and tone indicated he wasn't trying to gauge how much trouble he was in for. 

"Uh, like he usually does, albeit a bit peeved..." 

Gatty's face was unreadable, and Shesta sighed loudly grabbing his arm, "Gatty, is something the matter with Lord Dilandau that we should know about? Why didn't he accompany us this morning?" 

Viole's eyes widened slightly, Guimel straightened his posture so that he stood taller, Dallet's face regained some of its color, and Miguel looked more attentive and tapped the hilt of his sheathed sword sticking out of his scabbard. "Well?" Shesta pressed as Gatty hesitated nervously. 

"He....he wasn't feeling all too well this morning. When I went to his room to get him, he was throwing up, and in a lot of pain. He was still gonna come with us, but he was hurting so much he couldn't even stand up straight, much less finish strapping on his armor. He put me in charge, and sent me away." 

Shesta gasped, and the others behind him began to murmur to one another, "And you left him alone, and didn't tell anybody, not even the Strategos? Gatty, Lord Dilandau wouldn't have let us go off alone today unless something was really wrong!" 

"What was I supposed to do? He seemed pleased I didn't make a deal out of it. He..he trusts me to lead in his place... He knew I could do it alone! Something didn't have to be really wrong. You heard Biore, he looked fine when he saw him last." 

"Then why did you sound so worried before?" Miguel asked accusingly, and Gatty blinked at him. Miguel too? He looked to the faces of the other Elite Slayers and saw their looks of anger, even Biore looked cross with him. 

"Gods, leave me alone! Lord Dilandau didn't want the attention, so I honored his wishes! If I'd spoken up and bugged him, he might have put on his stubborn mask, and climbed into an Alseid with us! If you had seen him this morning, you would be glad he chose to remain behind." 

"But you could have said something... you could have warned Lord Folken, or the other Slayers. What if something had happened, and he needed help. No one knew to check on him, Gatty." 

"He can take care of himself..." guilt was heavy on his chest, he had been fretting about his decision since he'd left the Vione, and the others were making it worse. Maybe what he'd done wasn't smart, but Dilandau would have been furious with him... But would he rather have Dilandau furious and well taken care of, or pleased and in distress, or dead? He closed his eyes briefly before strengthening his resolve and putting steel behind his dark blue gaze. "I can't change my decision now, and Lord Dilandau, according to Biore, is fine, and waiting for us. Let's go." 

Viole scowled at Gatty, "You're lucky he's ok," and Miguel nodded his cold agreement with that statement. Shesta looked extremely disappointed but said nothing, as did Dallet and Guimel who still looked upon Gatty heatedly. They walked past Gatty in a single file line out of the hangar on course to the throne room. Gatty sighed after them and jogged to catch up, leaving Biore behind in his thin undergarments to shiver in the open hangar as the wind blew inward. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ 

Dilandau stared at his kneeling Elite with flames of tempered annoyance in his eyes, not only had they taken too long to get there, but they were now telling him two of the Alseides units had been damaged during the mission. Shesta and Dallet had come forward knelt directly in front of him, "So, am I to understand that you, my best soldiers, went out on a simple raid mission, against a country run by a bunch of backwater hillbillies, and got two of my Alseides damaged? How was that possible, and you were in stealth mode none-the-less? Were you purposefully trying to embarrass me?" Heightened adrenaline from fear and worry of the condition of his Elite, intensified by their delay upon arrival to his throne room, along with the weariness of his body, throbbing in his head, and burning pains in stomach, made him see red when he gazed upon the degraded six. He rose from his high backed stair, his eyes dangerous, and he moved closer to Shesta and Dallet set apart from their fellow Slayers. He slapped the both of them swiftly and efficiently, only calming when he saw them both sway, and red hand prints blossoming on their faces, "F...Forgive us..." they stuttered. 

Dilandau glowered at them, at all of them, "I will not tolerate this kind of incompetence from you ever again, if you wish to remain part of my Elite! You will train harder, practices will be extended. You are all dismissed...except you Gatty, you stay." 

"Yes sir!" They all chorused, standing, bowing, then scampering from the room, leaving Gatty behind. 

The blond first command remained in a kneel as Dilandau neared him and stood in front of him, "Rise." 

Gatty rose slowly, and gazed into his commanders fusia eyes awaiting his punishment. Dilandau studied him, noting the proud way he held his held, and the lack of tremors in his frame, with a nod. There had been no casualties, no one had been hurt, Fanelia had been destroyed, and his Slayers had returned to the fortress in a timely fashion. Gatty had also not looked at with concern, or pity, but as a subordinate awaiting an order. He was a good soldier, "I commend you on a job well done on your first mission." 

Gatty's eyes widened in surprise that was quickly smoldered, he hesitated before saying, "Thank you, sir." 

"You will join your fellow Elite, and give them orders to eat, shower, rest for at least 2 hours, then run a private flight practice of your own in the Alseides. I do not expect to see you back until lights out." 

"Yes sir!" 

"Dismissed." 

Gatty left the room with a bow, his eyes alight with pleasure at being given a rare compliment from his master. Dilandau watched his back with stern eyes, until he was gone. The moment the door close he let his knees give out, and collapsed to the floor. A wave of pure agony washed over him as he brought his knees to his chest and began to rock back and forth. Fight it, he had to fight this... there was no room for weakness in him. He shut his eyes and struggled to keep tears from brimming in his eyes, Dilandau Albatou did not cry, not for pain, not for sadness. He stifled a cry out, as invisible hands gripped his insides and gave them a violent squeeze. He gagged softly, coughing as a string of thin liquid fell from his lips. He wiped his hand across his mouth, and brought the pale appendage to the light to see that it was stained red. Blood, there was blood on his hand... He stared at it a little longer until his vision swam and all he saw was a red ocean. He didn't remember when he lost awareness, all he remembered was waking up, with Folken staring down at him. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ 

He opened his eyes to find he was still inside the cockpit of the Escaflowne, and surrounded by trees. He opened the hatch, and climbed out carefully, wary of his environment. Judging from the position of the stars in the night sky, he knew he was still in Gaea. "Hitomi?" he questioned. He looked to the large empty hand of his guymelef, uh-oh. "Hi...Hitomi?" He jumped down from the body of the machine, and began to inspect the area. Please don't let her be under the Escaflowne, that would be really disgusting. He shuddered just thinking about it. Then he'd have to scrape her off, and worry about burying her remains. Ok, maybe he was being a little morbid, but he'd just seen his homeland go up in flames, he believed he was entitled. He sat down in the grass with his legs sprawled in front of him staring straight forward into the shadows of the woods trying not to envision the utter destruction of Fanelia, or hear the frightened screams of many. He was going to avenge his country even if it brought about his death. He was going to find out who was behind the attack, who orchestrated it, and annihilate them. 

A high pitched scream broke into his thoughts that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, "Hitomi!" Avenging Fanelia would have to wait a little while longer... He ran deeper into the uninviting darkness of the woods towards the source of the panicked scream. 

The scream drew him toward the area, he heard the shriek of his owl Natal alerting him that he'd located the damsel in distress. He stepped into the small clearing grinning a he imagined he would have a new female admirer. "Step away from the maiden," he announced in his clear carrying voice. 

He watched as the creature assaulting the young girl jumped back in surprise, and turned with wide eyes to view him. He almost groaned when he saw the mole man, "You again?" The mole man was a known thief, but this was the first time he tried to assault anyone, much less a woman. "Tired of petty theft, thought you'd try something new? Do you find attacking young women more satisfying now?" 

"A...Allen..." 

Before he could choke out the rest of his name, Allen Schezar of Asturia, the renown Heavenly Knight, was charging forward. He delivered a clean uppercut punch to the chin that lifted the mole man a foot off the ground, and backward another foot. He landed ungracefully on his back and lay still. Allen smirked at the sight, then turned his attention to the young maiden. He appraised her delicately, she had a fresh look to her, that let Allen know she was still in her teen years, short light brown hair, and large green eyes. Her clothing was odd, a short skirt that revealed her bare legs, odd shoes, and a strange frock sporting a bow at the neck. She looked at him fearfully, she inched back further into the tree she was leaning against. He smiled winningly, slicking back a long strand of blond hair that had fallen into his eyes. He extended a hand toward her, "Are you alright, miss?" The girl whimpered, but didn't cringe from his hand anymore. He knelt in front of her, "What are you doing out here at this time of night all alone? I bet there's a story behind it.." he smiled at her again, hoping to get her to speak. From the scream and the small frightened noises she was making, he knew she wasn't mute. "Miss?" 

Her large green eyes were watering, and she trembled as she leaned toward him slowly, "A...Amano!" she stuttered. Amano? Was that a name, or was she speaking a different language? "Oh Amano, I thought I'd never see you again!" she threw herself into his arms, and Allen helplessly put his arms around the girl letting her weep. This had to be one of the strangest damsel in distress rescues he'd had. No woman had ever made a mistake in who he was. After a moment he felt the girl go limp in his hold...she'd fainted. He stood slowly with the girl in his arms, he would have to take her back to his castle and from there try to locate her parents if she had any. 

There was a ruffling behind him, and he turned to see a gangly dark-haired boy emerge, "What have you done to that girl?" He yelled at Allen angrily, he reached for the hilt of the sword he wore at his waist, "Don't draw, " Allen warned him. He didn't like to fight children, but if the boy were to pull out a weapon he'd be forced to protect the girl and himself. Though, the boy did seem to know the girl. The boy removed his blade so quickly Allen failed to see the royal crest decorating its hilt, Allen sighed, the young ones always ignored his warnings. He laid the girl down gently and drew his blade, "You're making a mistake," he gave the boy one last warning. 

The boy ignored it, and charged toward him with a loud battle cry. Allen was quick to block his blow, the boy fought with a vigor he had to respect, but his swordsman ship was rather clumsy. He would be an easy kill, but Allen was not found of killing minors, and it was clear he had good intentions in mind. As the boy ghosted past him, he hit him squarely in the solar plexus with the back of his sword knowing the move would bring the boy down. He stood in place watching the boy's reaction to the hit, satisfied when the boy collapsed. He moved forward to retrieve the sword he'd used, and examine its crest. The royal crest of Fanelia...this skinny little boy he'd just knocked out, was the king of Fanelia? He shook his head, he couldn't leave royalty unconscious and alone in the woods. He sighed looking at the two bodies, and the thief he was going to have to transport back to his castle. He was going to need a horse. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ 

Destroyed, all of it. It shouldn't have came as such a surprise to him, after all Dilandau had been sent. He knew anywhere Dilandau went disaster was sure to follow. His only relief was the fact that his little brother had gotten away...regrettably though, with the Escaflowne. Which meant, he would have to send Dilandau out again. Every time Dilandau and his Dragonslayers were sent out lowered Van's chances for survival substantially. He wanted to take time to come up with another alternative to capturing the Escaflowne, maybe he could lure Van to their side by getting him alone, talking to him. Then he'd give up the Escaflowne, but after conferring with Emperor Dornkirk, he was told time was of the essence. He didn't have the time it would require to reconcile with his younger brother, and bring him there by his own free will. He could order Dilandau to capture the Escaflowne, and if its pilot was intact not to kill him...but Dilandau was so hard to control once in battle and that insane bloodlust took over. 

So he just needed to ensure there would be no battle, though he could not do that in any case Dilandau was involved in. He ate, slept, and breathed for warfare. If he could do nothing but fight and kill, he'd be happier than Folken had ever seen him. He stepped into the Dragonslayers training hall. Nine slayers were hard at work inside, a few in their undergarments. Folken blinked, concealing an amused smile. 

"Where's your Captain?" he called stopping one fully dressed slayer running past. The slayer panted in front of Folken, "He hasn't been in to check on us... the last place I know for sure he went, was to the throne room. The Elite...came back, and he wanted to talk to them." 

Folken sighed, then Dilandau could be anywhere. It was common practice for him to go off in his Alseides with his team for flight and battle training away from the Vione. If he'd gone off with his best slayers they could be gone until morning. Folken nodded to the slayer he had spoken to, and the red haired boy resumed the lap he was running. He should have soldiers out looking for Dilandau...if he could get any soldier that wasn't a member of Dilandau's slayers to come near him. After he'd broken one man's arm, and the nose of another, everyone else pretty much steered clear of him. He opened the doors to the throne room only meaning to glance inside briefly before continuing on to his quarters. He knew he'd find it empty, but the perfectionist in him would never rest if he left any possible corner, no matter how unlikely, unlooked in. The small patch of light thrown into the room by the slight opening in the door illuminated a small figure on the floor, it didn't move, but the shape was familiar enough for him to know who it was. He slid into the dim room, stopping to light a gas lantern. "Dilandau?" He knelt next to the boy lying curled in the fetal position, and rolled him onto his back, "Dilandau, can you hear me?" 

The albino was unresponsive, and Folken peeled back his eyelids to check his pupils. How long had he been lying there? He wondered, releasing an eyelid and taking the boy's pulse. Foolish sorcerers... If he had known before they had taken Dilandau last that they were going to risk a premature separation to solve some of the insubordination issues they'd been having with Dilandau, he never would have allowed him to leave. The type of Fate Alteration Dilandau was a product of was highly experimental, and had only been done 4 other times. The first attempted separation was a fatal failure for both parties, the second was successful only for the host, the body had been only a year younger than Dilandau. The third separation was tried on a subject at 18 years of age, the host survived, but the alter ego survived only a year after separation. The fourth was a success, though the alter ego was impaired for a very long time after the procedure. The successful test subject had been 25 years old. All evidence proved that a successful separation procedure could only be performed after the subject''s body was fully mature, and both parties locked inside the body were secure and independent of one another for function. Dilandau's instability and age were definite clues that a separation would be a failure. The fact that he survived at all surprised Folken, but he obviously was not going to last. If there was a way to reverse the process he would recommend it. 

He opened the overcoat of armor the boy wore, wishing he had water and a cloth. The pale skin revealed underneath the armor was warm and peppered with perspiration. He would take him to the infirmary, the medics there could treat his visible symptoms though they would not be able to do anything about the real internal problem causing them. He worked one arm under the boys limp arms to lift his body towards his chest, then got the other arm under his knees. He was about to lift, when Dilandau stirred. He released him then, lying him back on the floor, "Dilandau?" 

"C...Celena?" his reddish eyes opened reluctantly to gaze upon Folken. "Folken?" 

"Yes." 

"Wh...what happened?" Dilandau groaned and tried to sit up on his own, after failing twice he lay still, glaring up at Folken. "Well?" 

"It appears you fainted," Folken shrugged, "I wasn't here when it happened, I merely found you." 

"Great, just great," Dilandau grumbled. "Help me up?" 

Folken obliged him, first helping him sit, eyes widening when Dilandau didn't stop struggling from there. "I don't think you should try to stand just yet." 

"Either help me, or stand back!" Dilandau snapped saucily. Folken rolled his eyes, and helped Dilandau clamber to his feet. Once he was upright his knees buckled, making him have to lean on Folken, 

"Gods...what the hell is wrong with me? Let me go, I'm going to stand on my own, dammit!" 

Folken didn't catch him when he fell to his knees again. He watched Dilandau pound the floor with his fist as he vented his rage, "Dammit all to hell! Freakin' incompetent is what I am! Shit!" 

He raged and ranted for a good 10 minutes before he tired and fell in on himself resting his head on his arms breathing heavily. "Would you like my help now, Dilandau?" 

"Stop freakin' mocking me Folken..." Dilandau growled. Folken merely lifted an eyebrow. "Get me up."He raised his head to meet Folken's metal hand, and took it, letting the man pull him up. He leaned on him as they made their way out of the throne room. "We cannot take the main hallway, I will not let anyone see me dependent on you." 

Folken nodded and took the alternate route he was planning on taking even before Dilandau stopped him. They moved for five minutes, before Dilandau grunted, "This isn't the way to my room." 

"We're not going there." 

"Where the hell are we going then, Folken? I do not feel like meeting with Emperor Dornkirk now, or anyone else for that matter! You will take me to my room!" 

"I am taking you to the infirmary." 

"You're what?!" Folken smirked as Dilandau used what was left of his meager strength to fight him. 

"You're ill, Dilandau, they can help you." 

He felt Dilandau relax a bit, "They can help me?" 

No, not in the way you need, but, "They can help you feel better." The words seem to be enough to calm him, "Folken?" 

"What?" 

"When we get there, out in the open when people can see us, you will release me, and I will walk into the infirmary myself." 

Folken nodded smirk growing, now that was something he'd like to see. He realized then why the sorcerers must have believed Dilandau would be different from their other failed projects, he was stronger of will than anything they'd ever created before. They were every bit as overly ambitious as their prodigy. 

~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ 

Shesta was pulling back his blankets ready to climb into bed, he looked across the room at Gatty who polishing the silver of his armor until it shone. "Gatty?" 

"What is it?" 

"What did Lord Dilandau keep you after for?" He sat on the bed without sliding under the covers, as he peered at his roommate. Gatty's face flushed lightly with pleasure as a large grin graced his features, "To tell me what a good job I did, today." 

Shesta's eyebrows rose in surprise, "He did what?" Lord Dilandau had delivered that type of praise? He felt... was that jealousy? Lord Dilandau had never given him such a compliment. He'd given him looks that expressed his delight, or slight smiles, but never kind words such as those. "He commended me, Shesta." Gatty hung up his armor and put away the polishing cloth. "I don't really think he was mad at all about those Alseides." 

"No," Shesta shook his head, "I think he was more worried about us getting into a situation where we could have been hurt. Those slaps he gave Dallet and I...they didn't hurt. I more bowed my head in shame than in pain." 

"I want to know how that guy saw through your stealth cloaks," Gatty frowned furrowing his brow. 

"Lord Dilandau must have told Lord Folken about it by now. Tomorrow we'll probably be learning a new system to master." 

"Hmm," Shesta hummed as his mind wandered away from what Gatty had said. Sure he was worried about their defenses being compromised during battle. The problem needed to rectified immediately, but right then...that night. That night, he worried about his leader, who had been so ill that morning he passed command on to a green first in command, and whom he also hadn't seen all day after their debriefing. "You think he's ok?" 

"Who? Lord Dilandau?""No one's seen him at all after the last time we did, and he didn't look so good then." 

"He looked ok to me." 

"Oh get the stars out of your eyes Gatty, he looked like death warmed over," Shesta snapped. "I wonder if he's been to a medic at all, I doubt it." 

"Yeah, me too, but he'll be fine. You know Lord Dilandau, nothing stops him. Remember when we first got the Alseides, and he insisted on testing them each out before he let us touch them?" 

"I'd never been so scared in my life when I saw that unit nearly self destruct in the hangar when he tried to start it," Shesta shuddered remembering the day almost 2 years ago. 

They had received their first Alseides units to practice in, and Dilandau climbed into the 7th Alseid unit to give it a test run. He had been wearing that wild grin of his he only got when his adrenaline levels were high, usually during and immediately following a good fight. He'd been taking the machines for 20 minute joyrides testing out all of their weapons, and doing dangerous aerial maneuvers that left his subordinates in awe as they watched how good he was. He'd just started the engine for that 7th one, when the guymelef began to shake, and smoke began to pour from somewhere in the rear of the unit. They heard Dilandau's loud curse, telling them right away that he wasn't responsible for the smoke screen. 

Several engineers, that had been watching and making note of each system as Dilandau returned them, ran to the bucking machine trying to manually shut it off from the outside, and extract Dilandau. There was a small explosion, and the entire guymelef was red hot with heat from the flames spewing from its head. "Holy shit!" Viole had uttered, and charged forward along with Shesta, Gatty, Miguel, and Dallet. They had always been favorites of Dilandau's, and would do anything for him. An engineer hollered at them to stand below the hatch to catch Dilandau when they cracked the hatch open with the metal tool they held between them, then to run for cover as fast as possible. Everyone else was told to get back, leave the hangar. The hatch screeched loudly making them cringe, as it opened just enough for them to see Dilandau inside, he appeared to be unconscious against the hull. Gatty and Miguel had been the brave ones who risked climbing upon the unit to try to pull Dilandau as the engineers worked to open the hatch more to free him. Viole, Dallet, Shesta, and another boy they didn't know very well then, who just couldn't leave their leader behind in the horrible situation, Guimel... charged forward to wait just below Gatty and Miguel, should they fall, to catch them. "I got his arms!" Miguel was saying. "Careful now, watch his head," Gatty hissed. The two boys worked together to pull their leader from the half open doorway. Neither boy could keep his balance while handling the dead weight of another in the unusual perch they were in, and both bodies tumbled backward when the third was secure in their arms. Shesta remembered the pain in his arms and chest when the weight of their armored bodies crashed into him, he even recalled the small cuts he'd received from the sharp silver of the Dragonslayers' uniform his comrades wore. Pain didn't stop them though. They didn't have time to let Gatty and Miguel back on their feet to reorient themselves with the ground as they'd been winded from their fall. All three were carried swiftly away from the Alseid as flames engulfed it. The engineers screamed, fire alarms shrilled about them, and other personnel flowed in with water hoses. The 6 slayers crouched in the far corner shaking, and hoovering over their fallen commander. His skin was impossibly paler than usual, making the blood streaming from the back of his head staining his neck seem incandescent. "Get his armor off," Shesta had said in a weak voice, surprised at the others obeying him. He was covered in bruises, but what scared Shesta to death was the large ugly bruise on his pale stomach area... He touched it gently, flinching when Dilandau moaned, internal bleeding... 

"They had to take him into surgery, and we didn't see him for days," Gatty recalled. "But as soon as he was conscious, he pulled himself out of the infirmary, and came to make sure we were still having practices." 

"I thought he would pass out. He even put on his armor, and came and sat in his throne. He just went on directing practice as if he hadn't almost died, and didn't have stitches in his stomach," Shesta frowned. 

"He never does what's good for him, Gatty." 

"Well whatever it is now cannot be as serious as that. Like I said before, he'll be fine in a few days," Gatty tried to shrug. 

Shesta groaned in irritation at Gatty's density, it was clear he would not be getting through to his roommate that night, "You know what Gatty, never mind." 

"Hmm?" Shesta rolled his eyes, his roommate was gazing at his armor, undoubtably thinking about the compliments he'd gotten earlier that day from Lord Dilandau. Shesta supposed he'd be glowing too if he'd been the one, but he hadn't been, so all he felt in his heart was worry. He slid out of bed, and pulled on a pair of sweat pants over his boxers, and stepped into his slippers. If he stood any chance of going to sleep that night, he needed to take a walk to clear his head. 

Yes it was Lights Out, yes Lord Dilandau was known to be very harsh on slayers ignoring the curfew, but Shesta was an Elite, a favorite. Dilandau had caught him once before wandering the hallways, and said nothing. He didn't even mention it the following morning. The hallways were dark and shadowy as he left the Dragonslayers' corridors. 

He froze as he heard voices from further on down the hall, probably the just night guards, but there was the chance that they could be soldiers from a different platoon. Wouldn't they love to catch Dilandau's second in command wandering the halls after hours, unarmed and in his bathrobe. Maybe this midnight stroll wasn't such a good idea after all. The other notoriety of what Dilandau would do to anyone besides him that touched one of his slayers was waning, because no one had tried in so long. Shesta felt more than confident he could take down a few of the overweight lowlifes in the Trojan squadron, but if the Aries were out that night he would be in trouble. 

He hugged the wall as the voices grew nearer, there were only two different tones he could decipher, meaning there were only two soldiers. He was about to start backtracking to the slayer hallways when he recognized the voices. How could he not? Lord Dilandau and Lord Folken, and they seemed to be arguing with one another softly. Nothing new there, they always argued. Sometimes their bickering sounded like that between siblings, which amused Shesta to no end though he didn't dare giggle. 

They were coming closer.... and Shesta began to feel some apprehension, though Lord Dilandau hadn't cared about his previous midnight adventures, he didn't think he'd be too happy about finding him lurking the halls this time. Images of Dilandau setting him afire on the account of eavesdropping played in his mind, and his brain began postulating alternate routes he could take to avoid running into his superiors."You're being ridiculous Dilandau. You left your men to run themselves for more than a week, and they are still in optimum form. I'm very sure you can leave them alone for a few more days, and they will not fall apart." 

"I sent them alone on their first Alseides mission today, and two of them were almost damaged." 

Two of them were ALMOST damaged? Shesta scratched his head, his Alseides had been dismembered, and Dallet's was a mess, had Lord Dilandau forgotten their report? 

"But they were not, everyone of your men returned safely. Even had you been there, those casualties may have occurred... Stop glaring at me, you know it's true... Let me take you back to..." 

"I already told you where you can take me, and if you won't, then goodnight, Folken! Get the hell out of my way!" 

Shesta was so into their conversation he'd failed to remember he was suppose to be retreating, and ended up face to face, to face, with Folken and Dilandau. They stared at each other for a one silent second, then Shesta flinched closing his eyes for the reprimand from Dilandau. One never came, "Shesta..." his voice was soft. 

"Y..yes Lord Dilandau?" 

"What are you doing out here?" 

"Taking a walk sir, I couldn't sleep," maybe he was going to let him off again, he gazed at his leader hopefully trying to gauge the look in his magenta eyes. "This is the second time I've caught you Shesta." 

"Yes sir." 

"Don't let there be a third time," his voice was silky and light. "Go on now, back to your quarters. If I get back to my room and see you, or your light still on, I won't care if it's Gatty's, you're going to be on bathroom detail!" 

Shesta shuddered, and bowed his head, "Yes , Lord Dilandau..." he was walking away when his captain first began to fall. Out of the corner of his eye he saw him sway, and as he turned he saw Folken leaning in to catch him and going down with him. Shesta barely suppressed a gasp, and quickly dropped beside the officials. "Lord Dilandau, can you hear me?" Shesta stared into the albino's lurid face. He looked to Folken, "What's the matter with him sir, where were two coming from?" 

"The infirmary," Folken said in a monotone, "he's not well." 

"He hasn't looked well since he got here," Shesta commented under his breath. "Would you like my help in getting him back to the infirmary, sir?" 

"If you take me back there I'll hurt someone... I want to go to my room," Dilandau was murmuring feverishly. 

Folken sighed, "Very well Dilandau, but I will not be checking on you in the morning, I have an early meeting and will not have time. Wouldn't you rather be in a setting where someone can help you around the clock." 

"I don't want help!" Dilandau groaned, he opened his dull eyes and tried to sit. "Shesta, give me a boost. You'll take me to my room, won't you?" 

Shesta frowned at his leader, he looked horrible, dark circles ringed his eyes, and he was damp with sweat. Could he really fight both him and Folken in his condition? "Shesta?" Dilandau's reddish eyes bore into his, flames smoldering behind them. 

Slowly Shesta lowered his head, feeling the need to obey his lord, "Yes Lord Dilandau, I'll take you wherever you want to go.""Excellent," Dilandau breathed. Shesta carefully helped him up, and waited until Dilandau steadied himself and against him before they started to move. "Good night Folken," Dilandau sneered, not looking back at the scowling Strategos. 

Shesta moved slowly, most of Dilandau's weight was on his shoulders. They didn't speak, he wasn't sure if Dilandau would like it. He was already embarrassed enough about his situation. Shesta wondered what was wrong with him. Perhaps it was that gripe some of the other soldiers had been passing around to one another. But Dilandau never got sick...not that they knew of. They took a back hallway to the Slayers hallway that Dilandau picked out, he didn't want anyone to see him leaning on Shesta. Shesta released Dilandau to let him open the door to his bedroom, "Do you need my help for bed, Lord Dilandau?" 

"Gods no, just go away now Shesta. Forget about this, and don't mention it to anyone!" Dilandau stumbled in through the door, and then slammed it in Shesta's face. The door was locked from the inside Shesta heard the click, and sighed deeply. Well, it appeared he was in Gatty's position now. He knew something was wrong with his lord, but his lord would rather he kept his silence. 

Folken knew....he knew something was wrong, he tried to reason with himself for not betraying Dilandau's trust. If anything's really wrong, Folken will help him. What help could a bunch of panicked Dragonslayers be anyway? He nodded to himself as he pulled himself away from the door. Yes, he'd do as Dilandau wished. He'd be a good soldier, and maybe he'd get commended like Gatty. He walked to his room with his head hung low, he was doing the right thing... he was. 

But why did he feel so awful about it? 

**Author's Note: So how was that? Please review :) Take care!** 


	5. Chapter 4

*~* _Author__'__s Note:  Thank you for all of the great reviews, I love getting mail!  For anyone who is wondering if or when Celena will be in the story again, don__'__t worry I have plans for her__…__muhahahahaha!!  Ok, ok, I__'__ll stop_. *~*

Disclaimer:  Yup, yup, I own Escaflowne and Gundam Wing, Sonic the Hedgehog and Ninja Turtles, Skittles and Snickers… though I wonder where the hell all my _money_ is going, I haven't seen a dime of it!  (I'm kidding ;)

Chapter 4

The next few days passed without incident.  Dilandau was at every practice, waiting for his slayers before the start of every practice looking impatient, and tense as always.  He worked them hard, never failing to demonstrate how he'd like things to be done.  His slayers followed him without question, still in awe of his skill, and how much they still had to learn from him, but they also whispered about him.  The change in his physical appearance was becoming apparent to more than just Shesta and Gatty.  The Captain was losing weight, he looked haggard, and his hands shook when he held his wine glasses.  

He sat with them during meal times, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, picking at the meager portions he would get for himself with a faraway look in his eyes.  He appeared to be much younger than he was, when his eyes were unfocused, and his face unlined with thoughts of upcoming battle.  "...and then he actually tried to come on to me.  Bald, ugly, liver spots...and he thinks I'd be interested in him.  So he takes my shoulders like this, and he's like come on kid, you know you want this too.  It gets lonely up here, and you're so pretty.  I was like, I wish I could say the same about you, and wow, when's the last time you've brushed.  So anyways, he started trying to touch my hair, so I broke his hand."

"So that's what Captain Crud (Crudgales) was complaining about," Gatty rolled his eyes at Viole, who grinned impishly with a shrug.  "I wish you'd have told me, so I could have told him to tell his men to keep their hands to themselves and they wouldn't have such problems with them getting broken."

"Eh, they get the message.  They forget who we are after a few weeks of nothing rough happening to them, and then they try to pull a fast one and get knocked down again.  They won't bother us for another two weeks I bet ya."

"Yeah, but what if it hadn't have been you down there, what if it had been Franz, or Tristan?  They may have been hurt.  We really need to speak up about these problems..." Shesta began, and was interrupted by Dilandau, "Just tell me who the main problems are and I'll deal with them.  No one touches my Dragonslayers, but me."

Viole smirked, "This is gonna be fun.  Can I make the list?  I already know who I'm going to put at the top of it.  I swear it's time we set the Vione down to let some of these men off to work off some of this sexual frustration they got building here.  It's getting gross, and frankly I'm afraid Refina's going to resort to castrating half the army on board this ship.  She's been sharpening her knives constantly, and she threw one at me cause I surprised her.  She thought I was that dirty old man, Graff."

  


Dilandau flushed angrily, and directed his narrowed eyes at Viole, "You will make me this list of yours Viole, but you'd better be serious about it.  Anyone whose name appears on that list I'm carving a new perverted smile....on their necks."  He set down his fork, completely ignoring his untouched food, and pulled out a long dagger that he stared at mesmerized by its milky sheen.

Viole looked more than happy to begin a list of lewd men on board, but Shesta eyed him warily.  Dilandau was serious, and Folken would not appreciate a bunch of corpses of dead Zaibach soldiers that could have been used in battle aboard the ship.  Viole pouted a bit, but resigned himself to keep his list short, only the real problems would be exposed.  "Lord Dilandau, is Lord Folken giving you our next assignment today?"

Dilandau's looked away from his knife to meet Gatty's eyes briefly, "Yes he will be, and after I receive the orders I will come to you all in your quarters and give you the details of what it is we will be required to do.  All of us will be in attendance for this mission, and I will lead you down."

The eyes of the second string slayers glowed with excitement, while the third string soldiers paled and looked nauseated.  "I believe Emperor Dornkirk has located the dragon for us, and our mission will be a simple retrieval.  Catching the dragon should prove to be no problem with all of us on the attack.  I expect no damage reports."

"Yes sir"'s were echoed around the table.  

"Flight training in an hour, until then you have free time.  Do something useful with it," Dilandau stood, and everyone rose with him to show respect as he left.  He walked out of the room, still holding the long dagger as if he was going to stab anyone who walked by him.... and knowing Dilandau he just might.  

"Did he eat?" Dallet was trying to get a good look at Dilandau's plate.  Gatty shook his head, "Not a bite."

"He's sick, I know it," Viole said shoving the last of his food into his mouth.  "He's been acting stranger than usual since he got back from that place with those Sorcerers.  I swear they're doing something evil to him, but what can we do to keep them from taking him away?"

"Nonsense, if they were doing something bad to him, no way would Lord Dilandau let them take him!" Miguel said cutting his meat neatly and tucking a small piece into his mouth.  

"I agree with Miguel on this one," Guimel said.  "Lord Dilandau is not one to be dragged anywhere he didn't want to go." 

Shesta closed his eyes as he remembered the night he and Lord Folken hovered over the pale Captain, wanting to take him to the infirmary.  "Yeah well, they are sorcerers, what if they mess with him, and like make him believe he wants to go or something."

"You're being stupid Viole," Miguel rolled his eyes, "as usual."

"And you've got your head stuck up your ass, Miguel, as usual," Viole scoffed.  He dropped his napkin in his plate and purposefully licked his fingers to annoy Miguel. "I'm going to go finish my homework."

"You mean, you're going to go finish copying MY homework," Dallet snorted.

"Yeah," Viole shrugged.  "I'll do homework next week so you can copy."

"Which is what you said last week," Dallet reminded him, and Viole's eyes widened, "Oh..I did huh?  Eh...uh.... Well geez Dallet, you don't really want to copy my homework.  Like Miguel said, I'm stupid."

  


"You're not stupid Viole, just lazy and good at talking your way out of things," Shesta said absently staring at the full plate their leader had left behind.  

"He didn't even eat the fruit, he always eats the fruit," Gatty commented.

"Can I have the fruit?" Guimel's hands were already reaching for the plate, and Gatty smacked him one.  

"I'm going to wrap it up, maybe he'll want to eat something later."

"Good idea, if he eats anything it will be that."  

They elite looked down the table at the other slayers.  It was funny how they all could sit at the same table, but yet be so separated.  They could talk about what they wanted without fear of someone butting into their business.  The only times the table was fully attentive to each other was when Lord Dilandau ate with them.  He was starting to do this more often, and Shesta was forming a theory.  Lord Folken worried about Dilandau, though he wouldn't show it in his facial expression, and if Dilandau had meals with him and didn't eat, Folken would pull him from missions.  He ate with his slayers because he knew none of them had the guts to jump on him about not eating, and taking care of himself.  

Gatty wrapped the fruit up neatly in a napkin, even going to get more fresh strawberries to garnish on top to make the salad look more appealing.  Dilandau liked red fruits.  

"I'm going to take a nap," Guimel said, stretching out like the big lazy cat he so resembled.  

"Who wants to spar with me?" Miguel asked, catching Dallet's eye and rising.              

"Remember we only have an hour," Gatty said as the slayers began to scatter one by one, until only he and Shesta were left.  "What do you wanna do Shesta?"

Shesta shrugged, "Wait for Lord Dilandau in our room."

            Gatty sighed, holding the fruit carefully so not to spill, "I'll wait with you."  The two officers walked side by side, their swords clinking in unison as they moved.  Older soldiers, boys in their later teens from the Hexagon battalion fled past quickly upon seeing them averting their eyes and protecting their hands.  Gatty and Shesta couldn't help but chuckle, who would have known people could be so sensitive about thoughts of having their hands broken. Broken hands seemed to be more effective than broken arms.  

            They had left the light on in the small room, and Shesta quickly stripped off his sword and heavy overcoat laying them over his desk chair and flopping down on his stomach on the bed.  "I wonder how this next mission is going to go."

"Well, we can't lose with Lord Dilandau coming with us this time," Gatty said confidently.

"If he's better," Shesta agreed.  "I can't see him dragging himself along for much longer.  He's going to crash."

"Lord Dilandau will only crash after he's obliterated the enemy, and not any time sooner," Gatty said with a sigh.  "Though, am I wrong for wishing he would so he'd have to start taking care of himself."

"Well, if you're wrong you're not alone.  I wish it too.  I want him to slip up in front of Lord Folken."

"Why him?" Gatty looked confused.

Shesta gave Gatty a smile, "Don't tell me you haven't seen the way they are with each other?" 

"What do you mean?"  Gatty's blond eyebrows drew together, ridiculous visions of his captain and Folken frolicking in fields invaded his mind.  

  


"They squabble with each other like siblings.  Remember the night after our mission, when we'd come in from flight training, and couldn't find him?  Folken had taken him to the infirmary, and when I went out to take my walk."

"You went out?"

"Yes, you were still on Cloud 9 and didn't notice me leave.  But anyway, that night Folken was arguing with him about him leaving the infirmary.  I bet Folken could find some way to make him stay behind on this mission too." 

"I'd love to see Folken trying to tell Lord Dilandau something like that," Gatty chuckled, "he'd go ballistic.  I wish I had gone out with you that night. I bet Lord Dilandau put up a good fight."

"He passed out," Shesta said laying his face on his pillow, "I practically carried him back to his room.  He didn't want me to talk about it though, so you can't bring it up again, especially not in front of that blabbermouth Viole. 

"I won't, especially not in front of Viole, though I don't think Lord Dilandau would mind if he knew.  I think Viole gets special treatment, there have been so many times when he should have gotten bathroom detail for speaking out of term, and he didn't!"

"It's because he's amusing Gatty, and even Lord Dilandau thinks so."

"Well I can be amusing too, and I still have ended up on my hands and knees in the community bath with my toothbrush and a bucket of soapy water."

"You're not amusing, you're annoying," Shesta cracked. "I've never had bathroom detail."

"I think he favors you too."            

"But you're his first in command," Shesta reminded him, and he complimented you. 

"Oh yeah," the starry look from days ago after their first Alseides mission wandered back into his eyes briefly. That was a good day. 

"Yeah for you, I got slapped," Shesta recalled bitterly.  

"You said it didn't hurt."

"I still got slapped."

"Baby."

"Jerk."                                     

The door to their room opened, and both jumped to their feet as Dilandau entered, "We go to Astoria tonight with the Odyssey regiment, Dornkirk is sure his precious dragon is there.  We are to try to extract the dragon with as little destruction as possible.  Folken's so boring."  

"Astoria sir?  Are we going to be lodging with...?" _

"Allen Schezar," Dilandau sneered.  He moved toward them, going straight for Shesta's bed to lie down.  "This day just keeps getting worse." 

  


Shesta stared at the back on Dilandau's silvery head.  He was accustomed to the Captain's affinity to his bed.  During their official study hours, the time they were supposed to devote to their schoolwork the Strategos gave to them weekly, Dilandau always sat on his bed.  The Elite would all study together in Gatty and Shesta's room, and Dilandau usually joined them.  He liked to let Shesta look over his homework.  There was never anything wrong with it, in fact, Shesta corrected a lot of his own mistakes from looking at Dilandau's papers, so Shesta figured the homework hour was just another way for Dilandau to bond with his Elite slayers.  They were all sure they'd have more fun without Dilandau there, for they had to be on their best behavior, but they did enjoy the quiet time with their master.  He didn't yell at them, or hit them, or constantly berate them for not doing something right, there he was quiet and reflective.  He appreciated their small jokes, though he added none of his own, and he occasionally let Viole copy an answer or two from his work.  

"Would you like for me to lead flight practice this afternoon, Lord Dilandau?" Gatty asked frowning at the Captain, who laid flat on his face, not moving.  He didn't answer for a while, and Shesta wondered if he had fallen asleep.  

"No, I'll do it," was the soft murmur.  

Shesta felt his stomach plunge, concern drenched his voice, "Are you alright, Lord Dilandau?"  He never spoke softly, he didn't whisper... never in their presence, unless he was issuing a venomous threat.  

The silver haired boy sat up slowly, his back to them, "Do you really care?"            

"Of course!" Both Gatty and Shesta said in unison.  They looked at each other, eyes large with fear, what was going on?  What was happening to Dilandau...and more importantly, could they help?

The albino stood from the bed, finally turning to face them, his features gaunt and tired, his ruby tinted eyes were dull, missing their spark, "Something's wrong with me."

"What is it?" Shesta wanted to surge forward and take his master's hand... he looked so lost.

"How can we help?" Gatty clenched his fists.

"Just... It's stupid, really stupid...but..." he looked to the floor, an internal struggle going on behind his eyes.

"What, my Lord?  What it is? Nothing you could ever want from us is stupid," Gatty's voice was firm, though through his hands ran a fine tremor.

"Never leave me..." his voice was very light, and hesitant, "I'm alone now, and... and I've never been alone before.  If you were to desert me too...  I haven't been the best leader lately, and..."

If it had been anyone else Shesta would have thrown his arms around him, pulled him close and ruffled his hair to comfort him.  He looked like a little boy who'd lost his mother.  He stood there trembling, looking so cold, and desolate.  Who had left him?  Who had he spoken of that had made him feel this way?  "Lord Dilandau, we would never leave you... We are your Dragonslayers.  You are the best leader any one of us could ever wish for, we have learned so much from you.  We are the best soldiers Zaibach has ever seen, because of you.  The only way we'd leave you, is in death.  You have our allegiance forever... we are faithful to you even over Zaibach.  Who has deserted you, Master?  Who has made you so unhappy?  We will kill this person for you, and bring you the head."Gatty nodded wholeheartedly in accordance to Shesta's speech, his eyes flew to the sword he had set aside.  

Dilandau said nothing, he gazed at Shesta, eyes so heavy with a grief Shesta could not even begin to fathom, "We'll never leave you, Lord Dilandau. You are not alone as long as we're here."

"She told me she'd be with me too...that I would still be able to feel her, and I can't anymore..."

  


She?  Who was she?  It couldn't be Refina, if Dilandau had ever chosen her to court she'd never leave his side.  She was bedazzled and completely enamored of him.  "Who...?" Gatty began to ask, but then Dilandau blinked.  All at once the uncharacteristic emotion of sorrow and pain left his eyes, his face lost its look of childish innocence, "Gather the troops for flight practice, I'll be in the hangar awaiting your arrival.  You have 10 minutes."

"S...sir!" both Gatty and Shesta stood at attention, not daring to move until Dilandau walked by them, and closed the door to their room.

"What in Gaea was that?' Gatty gasped when the door closed and Dilandau's footsteps became faint.  "Lord Dilandau...I thought he was going to start crying..."

Shesta shook his head, "Something is seriously wrong..."

"Who was he talking about?  No one but Folken, and ourselves are with him all the time.  All of us are still here...who could have deserted him."

"A servant girl?" Shesta wondered.  "Perhaps he's become involved with the girl who changes his linens.  I've never seen him speak to her, but that doesn't mean anything."

"So you think maybe he's just... love struck?  My older brother, the one who was killed, he acted funny around girls.  He said they made his head swim and his stomach queasy."

"No," Shesta disagreed.  "That night with Lord Folken, he was very ill.  His skin was hot, and he fainted."

"So maybe the servant girl's a witch, maybe¼"

"Gatty, you're being ridiculous."

"Well fine then," Gatty looked insulted.  "Since you're the smart one, what do you think it is...and what do you think we should do to help?"

"We should tell the rest of the Elite for starters."

"Ok."

"Then, I think... We should go to Folken."

"What?"

"He's a scientist, an ex-sorcerer, and he likes Lord Dilandau.  If we all got together, I'm certain we can help Lord Dilandau get better."

"He'll think we betrayed him."

"I'd rather him think that, than for him to go on suffering like he is.  Gatty... I'm scared, for him.  You saw him just now too... something needs to be done."

Gatty let out a great suspiration, "We'll hold a meeting before we leave tonight, and we'll go to Folken."  Gatty went to his chair and began pulling on his overcoat and strapped his sword back to his side, "I never want to see him like that again..."

Shesta pulled on his own armor, "Me either."

"Come on, lets go."

~*~                  ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~

He missed her.  He couldn't believe he'd never realized what a big part of him she had been...he'd never even known she was there, but now that she was gone he felt a terrible voice inside himself.  She was a comforting presence; she made him whole.  He'd felt confident and well rounded with her there...she filled his aura with her own.  Though he saw no physical difference, and his thoughts were still his... his steel resolve was gone.  She had been his confidence, his esteem.  She stroked his ego, and fueled his passion for warfare, for when he fought he felt nothing.  He was not excited about the prospect of battle anymore.  He thought of strategy and trained his soldiers with no fervor.  It was like the life had been drained from him.  

Celena... she had been part of him, and she'd been taken away.  

  


How?  Had they been two separate people somehow merged into one by the sorcerers...or had they always been one, and somehow the sorcerers had given her a body away from Dilandau's.  What was she really?  What was he?  Normal people didn't have extra presences in their bodies, did they?  But he wasn't normal... the sorcerer's had seen to that.  He didn't have a real birthday, he could remember no parents, or siblings... He only remembered laboratories from his early years.  There were no other children but himself.  Celena was there, he knew, though he couldn't talk to her...he felt her.  He, of course, didn't know it was Celena then.  

Why had she never talked to him, or try to let him know she was there?  He never really felt alone when he was abandoned by the sorcerers for the night...but he hadn't known why.   Celena had been his silent company, and though he didn't know she did, she held his hands.  He had strange dreams causing him to wake up in the middle of the night, and not be able to go back to sleep.  He dreamed of instances in his younger years where Celena had been a voice in his ear.  She spoke to him during the most frightening and trying times of his young life, giving him advice, courage, and skill.  She'd kept them alive during his training, he knew.  Why hadn't she ever introduced herself then, let him know that she wasn't his conscious or a figment of his overactive imagination.  Why couldn't she have let him know she was real, she was with him, and he never felt alone because she was there?  She could have prepared him for this.

It had taken a few days, but the last of his connection with Celena's light blue aura had faded, and he was cold...lonely.  He now believed her tale of them being one...cause he now felt like a half.  He felt weak, and ill, and so terribly alone.  He'd never really felt the need to be nice to anyone, he hadn't needed friends... he hadn't needed anyone.  He had been two people, and two was enough company.  Now he feared his Dragonslayers were all he had, and they had no reason to really like him, and to want to stay close enough to him to fill the need of companionship he yearned for.  They were simply his subordinates, they were in awe of him.  They loved him, but not in the way he needed.  

Celena, are you suffering as much as I am?  

He wanted to go back to her.  Was it possible for them to join again, even if he became part of her this time, and she was the one who walked about unaware of him?  

Gatty and Shesta... they had looked so afraid, so worried...for him?  They'd expressed their dedication to him, their pledges to give their lives for him... they'd even offered to kill the one who'd hurt him so.  It touched him in a way he'd never been touched before.  He was certain he cared for his Dragonslayers.  The idea of someone harming any one of them drove him insane with rage.  After he returned from Astoria, he would deal with the men who had dared to molest them.  Though he was weak, and was not up to his usual level of combat, he was still by far the best soldier aboard the Vione.  He could still take out the trash, and not be left winded.    Folken seemed not to care about the type of men he let aboard his floating fortress.  Some of the vilest excuses for the human species defiled its hallways.  Folken had little to do with them, occasionally he'd meet with the captains of some of those platoons to discuss behavior, but he never gave them missions.  Their missions came from their generals on other fortresses.  Folken concentrated on the Dragonslayers, Dilandau supposed he was their general...though technically they fought under General Adelphus.  

  


Folken had been watching him lately, inquiring of his appetite and of his hours of rest.  He was being uncharacteristically worrisome, he usually kept to himself and left Dilandau alone for the most part.  Did he know something more about Dilandau's situation?  After all, he had, at one point in his life, been a sorcerer.  Could he know about Celena, and how she had been taken from Dilandau?  Maybe he knew how to get her back...

He glanced down the aisle of gleaming Alseides units, pausing at his red Oreades.  He would take them to the forest near Astoria, that way he could train them and get them used to the terrain they would be in when in pursuit of the dragon.  He climbed atop the guymelef and sat down on its broad shoulder gritting his teeth as his armor dragged across the large arm making a grating sound.  He should have ordered for the doors to be opened already so he could get a breeze.  It was hot...or rather, he was hot.  No matter what he did, he couldn't seem to get rid of the fever he'd had since he'd arrived back on the Vione.  He also couldn't rid himself of the sour stomach, or headache.  He hadn't had a decent meal in he couldn't be sure how long.  He didn't remember much of the time he'd spent with the sorcerers, so he didn't know if he had eaten there.  He had no real appetite, so he supposed it didn't matter.  He'd never really been that big of an eater anyhow.  He preferred light meal of fruits and vegetables, meat and starches made him feel heavy and sluggish, and he had no taste for sweets.  His Dragonslayers did, and he indulged them every once in a while by having a flavorful dessert put on their menu.  

General Adelphus had complained once, that Dilandau let them have too much.  But he really didn't find making sure his soldiers had: decent food to eat, good protective armor to wear, the best weapons available, nice living quarters, and bathroom area, spoiling them at all.  It was to be expected.  How could anyone do their job properly eating slop, using outdated material, sleeping in quarters equal to that of servants, and bathing in filth?  If the other captains felt their men could flourish in such an environment, then so be it...for them.  Dilandau had grown up in war camps seeing various treatments and receiving various treatments from commanders.  He saw what worked, and what failed miserably.  The best men were usually the ones treated as if they were the best men.  Dilandau commanded the best, and Folken willingly let him have for his slayers, what he wanted.  

He heard his Dragonslayers entering, their heavy boots noisy against the steel floor.  They lined up single file before his Oreades, and knelt awaiting instruction.  He rose from his sitting position and looked down on them, his perfect soldiers.  They looked so beautiful, each of them in their own way, and each of these beautiful creatures entrusted their life to him.  He would train them to be perfect, so that they would never fall in battle, so they would never be scarred and lose their outer beauty.  "Everyone to their Alseides units, you will follow me in a diamond formation.  We are going to the Astorian forest. "

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Folken.  He stood at the door watching them all silently.  Tonight, Dilandau promised, I will ask you about Celena.  

~*~                  ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~

Van couldn't believe he was being kept in a cell like a common criminal.  He was royalty, dammit!  Stupid Astorian Knight... he didn't care if was the great Allen Schezar.  Yes, he'd recognized the knight's name when he'd given it.  Van had been told stories about him from Fanelian soldiers when he was younger.  He'd always wanted to see the "Knight of Heaven."  Now he regretted ever having those thoughts.  Jerk.

  


And what was worse, he'd taken Hitomi.  He seemed to like her by way of attraction.  He was much too old for Hitomi, in Van's opinion, but age between a man and woman really did not matter.  Many women married as young as 12 to men as old as 50.  Van couldn't see any of those women being very happy.  His parents had been close in age, but they'd met under such unusual circumstance matters likes age hadn't really mattered to them either.  It just so happened they were only a few years apart.  But what did it matter to him about Hitomi and Allen anyway?  It wasn't like he liked her in that way...or in any way really.  She'd been a nuisance since he'd first met her.  Though she had helped him out an awful lot with the land dragon...and in Fanelia.  She had some sort of power, and he found it quite useful.  Perhaps that was why it bothered him about Allen taking advantage of her.  Van needed her, he still needed to figure out her secret.  Allen could have her after that, and she would be more than happy it seemed from her previous behavior to go with him.  He was tall blond and handsome, what more could a lady want?

Van scowled, he was jealous.  He was neither tall, nor blond, and he didn't think he was very handsome at all.  He'd taken his looks from his father, and his father had been a very plain man.  His mother was beautiful, a delicate creature from beyond, and his older brother Folken looked just like her, except with pale sea tinted hair.  He pictured his once happy family, all long dead and gone from him.  He'd been raised mostly by his sword teacher, Balgus... Balgus who now resided with his family.

It seemed no one he loved could stay with him for long.  It had made him rather cold. He sat in his cell idly, waiting for someone, anyone, to come and set him free.  His liberation came in the form of a mole man, the same one who had tried to rob Hitomi, digging his way to freedom and arriving in the wrong cell.  Van had never been so happy to see a thief in his entire life.  Through the tunnels with the nervous mole he crawled hoping to find a way under the wall.

~*~                  ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~

Allen took one last drink with his men before going to check up on Hitomi, the strange girl he'd carried in the previous night.  His men fancied her, as they fancied any female they came across.  They marveled at her short hair and odd clothing.          

The girl slept peacefully, on her lips were the precious syllables of "Mother."  Poor child, he wondered where she was from.  He would try to return her there as soon as possible.  Her family had to be worried.  He sat beside her bed, massaging her forehead with a damp towel from a bowl of cool water he had set on the small night stand earlier.  Her large green eyes opened slowly, and she rose in a panic not knowing where she was.  "Shh...Hitomi, you are with me...Allen, in my castle.  Do you remember me?  I rescued you last night."

The girl blinked, focusing in on him, "It wasn't a dream, then."

"How are you feeling?"

"Lost."

"Where are you from?  I will take you home."

"I don't know if you can..." Hitomi's eyes began to fill with tears.  Allen sighed softly, setting the cloth back in the bowl, and taking one of Hitomi's clenched hands, "It's alright.  Just tell me where you are from, and let me decide if I can get you home or not.""I'm from...from Earth, Van calls it the Mystic Moon."

"The Mystic Moon?" Allen gasped.  He looked out into the night sky, at the bright blue planet in the sky. "But how..."

"I don't know," Hitomi wiped her eyes.  "I came here with Van... he was looking after me.  Where is he?"

"Van?" Allen frowned... King Fanel... He'd only noticed the royal crest after he'd put the boy in the small dungeon.  "He's...here, safe.  I'll bring him to you if you'd like."

  


"I...don't know.  He doesn't seem to like me much.  If he's busy..."

"I'll have someone fetch him.  Gaddes!" 

The tall dark haired first in command was at his side immediately, "Yes sir?"

"Can you go and bring King Fanel here for Hitomi."

"Um sir..." Allen leaned close to the man as he made to whisper in his ear, "The King's already gotten out of his cell.  I expect he'll be here on his own in a few moments."

"How did he get out?" Allen frowned.            

"Seems he dug a tunnel, the other prisoner helped him."

"Ah," Allen sat back in his chair, "Van will be here to see about you shortly then, young lady.  Until then, would you like something to eat or drink?"

The girl accepted glass of water, and she sipped it patiently while waiting for Van to put in his appearance, which he did.  He was dirty and disheveled as he bounded into the room demanding to see the girl, Hitomi.  

"Van!" the girl said, sounding pleased to see the scruffy looking boy.  Allen stood back to let the two get reacquainted he had other matters to attend to.

"Zaibach wants us to house their soldiers?  Tonight?" Allen raised an eyebrow.  To say he never liked, nor trusted Astoria's latest allying country, would be an understatement.  Something about that nation rubbed him the wrong way.  He feared the alliance would be used against his country one day.  "Go tell Arlena and Tamsin to go prepare the spare rooms for guests."

He sighed deeply, watching the messenger leave.  He sat alone in his private office twiddling his thumbs contemplating where to put his unexpected guests.   Officials from Zaibach were surprisingly uppity and demanded quarters finer than his own.  He snickered, as he thought about them having to sleep 4, maybe 5 deep, to a room. Perhaps they thought he was a king!

Well Zaibach, I wish I were, because I would never have an ally like you if I were!

~*~                  ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~                 ~*~

Folken blinked at the reception that met him outside his door.  Six solemn Dragonslayers stood, one, Gatty, stepping forward as the official speaker, "We're worried about Lord Dilandau.  He's not well, not physically, and not mentally.  He won't eat, doesn't look like he's been sleeping, his hands shake sometimes when he's holding things¼ and¼ he¼ he had a break down of some sort in our room earlier.  He was saying something about a girl, and being alone¼and he freaked the sh¼er¼he really scared us.  We don't know if you can help, but all of us got together and we can't think of anyone else to turn to."

Folken sighed, he knew.  Dilandau knew about Celena.  He wondered how he'd found out about her.  He was certain Dilandau had no knowledge of her before hand.  Perhaps they'd seen each other, but would they have known what was done to them?  None of sorcerers would ever explain the process of a Fate Alteration to any of their subjects.  "Where is Dilandau now?"

"He's in the hangar¼ he's been there since we got back, sir¼ just sitting there inside his Oreades."

Folken nodded, "I'll go to him."

"Don't ¼tell him we came to you!" Shesta spoke up then. "He'd be so angry with us."

  


"Of course not," Folken spirited passed the young soldiers.  He had been looking over maps of the terrain of Freid, and also reading over the progress reports of his wards Naria, and Eriya.   They could wait a little longer¼  

The issue of Dilandau was beginning to scare him as much as it was frightening his young officers.  The boy was slipping, not eating, not sleeping, losing weight and muscle mass.  His eyes were those of a dead person's with no soul to light them, and speaking to him lacked its normal vigor.  His vocalizations were monotone, and to the point.  There were no more of those biting remarks that made Folken's ears burn with irritation, nor were there any outbursts of insubordination when told he was to do something he didn't approve of.  The boy behaved as if he simply didn't care anymore, about anything¼but his troops.  His appearance, which had meant so much to him, was lackluster, faded like his once sharpwitted personality.  He was a mere shadow of himself, and the light was growing brighter about to snuff the shadow out.       

He found him just where Gatty said he was.  The door to the hatch of the large guymelef was open, and Dilandau was slouched in his pilot's chair staring off into space.  "Dilandau?" 

The boy surprised him by snapping to attention immediately and gazing at him, "Folken."

"What are you doing?"

"Resting.  Why, does Dornkirk require anything further of me?" His tone was dry, listless.  

"No.  I've just come to see why your men have returned without you.  Are you alright?"

"No."

"What's wrong?" Folken offered a hand to Dilandau, wanting to help him from the guymelef, but Dilandau ignored it and stayed seated.  

"Folken, who is Celena?  I know somehow we were once together, and that sorcerers are behind it, but who is she?  And why, why did they take us apart?  I didn't know she was here, but now that she's gone... I need her Folken," Dilandau looked at Folken, eyes springing to life and leaking tears, "I...I don't feel... I almost... I was trying to show Guimel something, and I almost lost control of my unit.  Folken, I don't know if I'm fully competent anymore.  I can't lead my men... what if something happens to one of them, I can't guarantee I can save them."

"It's not your job to save them.  You train them as best as you can, and then trust them as good soldiers to survive."

"They aren't just soldiers to me Folken, you don't understand," Dilandau whispered.  "I need her back... I can do this with her, I know I can.  How can I get her back?"

"Dilandau, I don't know if you can. It's never been done.  They never should have taken you two apart."

"Who is she?" Dilandau demanded, his voice gaining intensity. "Folken how do I find her?  Maybe if I'm just with her...next to her..."

"She's... Dilandau, please let me help you down.  I'll explain what I know about Celena, and what was done to you in my chambers."  He offered his hand, his real hand, to Dilandau again.  Dilandau narrowed his eyes before taking Folken's hand, and allowing him to pull him up.  He stepped out of the machine onto the metal platform.  

"Would you ever have told me, if I never asked?"

"No."

  


"At least you're honest," Dilandau said gruffly following Folken out of the hangar into the corridors that led to their chambers. 

*~* Author's Note:  Ok, it's done I swear.  Sorry for the chapter length, I have a problem with being long-winded (10 pages is a short chapter to me, lol).  Just bear with me a little while longer, the action in this story starts in the next chapter, promise ;) Please review, and take care! *~*


	6. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews again :). Um...ok...please don't be mad at me, but I butchered Escaflowne in this chapter. I have a logical explanation for it that I could ramble on all day about and make you see it my way...but uh.... to be brief about it; I let my friend borrow the series, I tried to recreate the scenes from memory, turns out I mixed up a lot of episodes and forgot some stuff. But.... instead of redoing it, I decided this was still ok, because I don't want to just retranslate the series until I get to the parts that are going to be way different...and this way I can get to the fun stuff a heck of a lot sooner hehehe. I hope it is ok :) Please review ;)**  
  
  
  
  
  


Disclaimer: I own Escaflowne, but the people who created it don't know that yet... so if you could keep it quiet for a while, I'd really appreciate it. (Just kidding! Laugh at me people, it encourages me :P ).  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Chapter 5  
  
  
  


"So I'm not real, that's what you're telling me..." Dilandau murmured. "I'm a science project. The sorcerers got Celena, gods know how, and experimented on her, and...then I existed. That's why I don't have any memories before I was 8...if I was 8... they told me I was..."

"You are biologically 15 years old, Dilandau."

"Biologically..." Dilandau was rocking back and forth vigorously rubbing his arms. "So...so I stole her life, and now she's got it back. She's not gonna want me back. She's glad I'm gone..." 

"Dilandau, don't worry about her. Lets focus on you, and getting you better."

"But you said people... things ...like me don't survive. We were separated too soon."

"You're different. You're stronger than the others...."

"Really?" Dilandau purred, his eyes narrowed dangerously. "And just how many others are there? Where are they? I want to find to find them...all. Do any of them know what's been done to them, what they are?"

Folken sat back in his chair looking up at the ceiling, "There were precisely 14 Fate Alterations that I know of, where an alter ego emerged from the host and took corporeal form."

"Were? How many of them still live."

"The only ones that still live are the ones who've been separated, the 3 hosts and 1 alter ego."

"So we all die if we're not separated eventually, but even then there's a good chance it won't work?"

"The ones who died that were not successfully separated went mad. The host ego emerged in all of them, and I believe there was a struggle. They had to be...silenced."

"The Madoushi killed them?" Dilandau was beginning to feel nauseous again. "And I..."

"You...you were becoming unstable Dilandau... General Adelphus sent them a complaint, I warned you to be careful around him."

"And why didn't they kill me?"

Folken actually laughed then, "Kill you? Dilandau Albatou? The most notorious soldier in Zaibach? Grown men fear you, soldiers in your regiments flourish under your command... You're the best they've ever created. They performed the separation in an attempt to save you."

"But... I'm going to die, aren't I?" Dilandau ran a shaky hand through his hair. "You think I'm going to die. If I don't on my own, I'll fall in battle. I'm losing my edge.." he began to giggle then. "They would have had me...silenced....but instead they tried to save me. Their attempt is going to kill me, so...I guess the problem is solved either way."

Folken watched as the albino cackled hysterically, he reached for the glass of wine he'd been nursing while listening to Folken's story. He had drunk more than half the bottle already, and Folken moved the glass out of his reach, "Enough, no more for tonight. I think it's best you went to bed now. In the morning, we'll look into treatments. I've been doing some research, and I think I have..."

"I'll be in Astoria," Dilandau said amiably. He grabbed for the half empty bottle of vino and took a deep swig of it. 

"You won't. You aren't going. You're going to stay here. You're in no condition to..."

"Ah..ah...ah...Dornkirk said, I can't go against his orders, now can I? It's the reason I had to get fixed in the first place," Dilandau gave an deranged grin. "I'll see you when we get back Folken, with the dragon. If it'll make you feel better, I'll see if we can be back in the same night, so I can come see you in the morning."

"You're drunk."

"Am I?" Dilandau batted his eyes. He stood without swagger, "Well shit, hope it won't be too much of a problem. Thanks for the chat, Folken, it's been most....enlightening."

He slammed the door when he left, and Folken still sat at the table staring at the half drunk glasses of vino. The liquid glassiness of the fine wine was the same tint as Dilandau's eyes as they watered when he'd made his last remarks to Folken before leaving. 

Perhaps Dilandau hadn't been as drunk as Folken had perceived him to be.  
  


  
  
  
  


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The wine was hot coming back up, and tears of pain ran down his face. Great, more tears, that was all he needed. He'd known Folken was going tell him something unpleasant, but he hadn't thought.... He dropped his head in the sink and turned on the faucet letting cold water wash over his face, hair, and neck to cool him. 

Ok, Dilandau, he told himself while under the spray, time to get your shit together. You hear me, get it together! You got 15 people out there that need you, think you're the sun that rose this morning, and the Mystic Moon that shows its face at night. Now, straighten up...

Dilandau turned off the water, stood up straight, and pulled a red towel from the rack to dry his head. He ran trembling hands through his hair to give it some semblance of order, and rinsed out his mouth. 

Suck it up.

He fought the nausea and pain that gripped him. He ignored how hot and tired he felt, and shook the shake from his limbs.

Good boy, now lets go.

He turned off the light to his bathroom and walked into his bedroom to reclaim his sword. He slipped it back into his sheath, and went to open his bedroom door. Just before cutting off the light he took a glimpse of himself in the full length mirror. His skin was still paler than usual, his face gaunt...his armor didn't quite hug his body as well as it used to, but in his eyes, and in his posture he could see some of his old confidence returning.

Perchance he really didn't need Celena after all, he could make it all on his own. For once in his short life he wished to prove the Madoushi right.

He was the best thing they ever created.

  
  
  
  


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The King of Fanelia was arrogant, pushy, and overall not someone Allen would appreciate on a daily basis, but he was a monarch in need, and as a knight it was his sworn duty to serve and protect royalty. Unless of course, the need went against the laws of his country, or would bring it harm. He returned Van's sword, but frowned at his request to return his guymelef. The youth was rash and headstrong; he would do no good in the machine. He would try to leave, and Allen felt it in his better interest to keep him near. The boy was still grieving over the loss of his country, and in a righteous anger that could get him killed in a foolish quarrel. He didn't even know who his current enemies were. 

He watched the boy storm off in a huff, smirking at his scrawny physique. Who had he ever believed would be intimidated by that? He looked up at the night sky… their guests would be arriving shortly. In fact… he stood and peered into the horizon… he could see flags. They were no more than 15 minutes away. He'd better be in the main hall to greet them. He couldn't have them reporting to King Aston that one of his best knights was rude to them.  
  


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"I want to go home," Miguel stated as soon as he saw the men who would be greeting them loitering around the castle through his binoculars. "They all look like they have fleas. I bet the castle is full of vermin."

"Miguel, you are such a snob," Viole teased, laughing as Miguel looked down his nose at him. "I love you too!"

"Whatever had you under the impression that I love you, Viole?" Miguel asked haughtily, his horse gave a snort and seemed to sneer at Viole as well.

"Geez, Miguel. I think you've been riding that horse too long. You've bonded with him, and you're starting to look and act like one another. Look, Guimel. Miguel's horse is glaring at me!"

Guimel gave a tired sigh, and rolled his eyes to Viole, to Miguel's horse, and nearly fell off his own, "By the gods it is! Dallet, Miguel's horse is glaring at Viole, look!"

"Slayers, are we truly that bored?" Gatty asked coming to ride between Miguel and Viole. "The Second and Third String are looking at us. We are supposed to look esteemed and intimidating."

"We don't?" Viole frowned. "I thought we did… I mean, Miguel does, and so does his damn horse. Look it, Gatty! I swear he's giving me the evil eye!"

"Gatty, I will ride beside Lord Dilandau, please take my position beside this moron. I would thoroughly appreciate it, and will be in your debt," Miguel requested, looking at Gatty with extreme pleading in his eyes. Riding beside Viole for 4 hours was a harsh sentence he'd done nothing to deserve. Gatty grinned at him apologetically, "Go on Miguel, I'm sorry no one has relieved you sooner."

"Thank you," Miguel nearly took Gatty's hand and kissed it. "You're a prince, Gatty!" He turned his horse and trotted to relieve Ryuuon, who had taken Gatty's place at Dilandau's side temporarily until his return. 

"Back to your position Ryuuon, I'm taking over for Gatty," Miguel said gruffly to the Second String slayer. Ryuuon nodded briskly, his eyes revealing the slight awe, and even fear of Miguel. He looked to Dilandau, "Lord Dilandau?"

"Dismissed, Ryuuon," Dilandau said not even glancing at him. Ryuuon nodded turning his horse to rejoin his regiment, face alight with pride at the position he'd been given for the short period of time. 

"Lord Dilandau, Gatty is taking my place beside Viole, and I am requesting permission to ride at your side," Miguel said formally.

"Fine Miguel."

Miguel glanced at Shesta who nodded at him. The blond looked preoccupied, he kept shooting looks at Dilandau trying to gauge his current state of health. They had all thought for sure Folken was going to pull Dilandau from the mission. He'd surprised them when he'd boarded the small ship that was to set them down hours from Astoria so that they could approach by horse looking moderately worn. The Vione was traveling perhaps an hour behind them, and going to station itself a half hour away. 

The pale boy sat tall on his horse, his wine colored irises staring straight ahead to their destination. Miguel grimaced as he gazed upon it. He bet it was crawling with mice, and cockroaches. 

"We are no more than 15 minutes away from our destination Miguel. You could not suffer Viole for 15 minutes more?" Shesta asked him, talking across Dilandau. He leaned forward a bit in his saddle so he could see Miguel.

"He was asking me questions, making stupid comments, and singing, Shesta. No I could not put up with him for one more minute before beheading him."

"That would leave me a man short Miguel," Dilandau said, making Miguel jump. Dilandau usually didn't involve himself in their conversations. 

"You wouldn't miss him, sir… unless you actually appreciate remarks about resembling horses, and songs about beer and whores," Miguel didn't hide his dry tone, and his heart fluttered when he saw a small smile tugging at the corners of Dilandau's lips. "You amuse me Miguel, as does Viole. You make the perfect pair in my eyes. It's a shame you don't get along, though I even find that quite amusing."

"Pleased to know I amuse you sir," Miguel colored a bit. He wasn't sure if he should be mildly insulted being put in the same category as Viole, or whether to simply be pleased Dilandau was carrying on a real conversation with him. 

"The castle looks interesting," Shesta said, his voice was flat. He wasn't pleased with the overall appeal of the castle either.

"I've seen worse," Dilandau muttered.

"The servants look diseased," Miguel reported.

"We won't be staying long Miguel, just don't touch anything," Shesta suggested with a smirk. Miguel frowned seeing that Dilandau was now amused with Shesta, and his comment to Miguel. 

He actually felt rather comfortable in his new arrangement, riding beside Dilandau. He always loved getting the honor, but he had to admit he always felt a little nervous. Dilandau was so silent, and seemed to be in another world when he rode, but he was very attentive to everything. He didn't make eye contact with anyone, much less smile and join in jest. He was changing… but Miguel couldn't complain. He'd always wanted to feel closer to the captain, all of the Elite did. They wanted him to laugh with them, and tell them things… He was a little jealous of Gatty and Shesta because sometimes Dilandau would tell them things the others would have to hear thought them. And like earlier…he'd confided in them. He should have been second in command. He often pondered how Shesta had gotten the job over him. Shesta was a good, but his fencing and piloting skills did not compete with Miguel's. Gatty was an all-around soldier, winning him the easy position of number one, but why Shesta? 

He was good with people; that was why. 

Miguel was often berated for being snooty. He couldn't help it, it was how he'd been raised. If his parents had known before birth being raised as a noble would prohibit Miguel from promotion in his teens, they might have shipped him off to one of those dreadful military camps Gatty had come from. 

Viole came from nobility too, shockingly enough. He had been raised by his widowed mother and older sisters; he ran away from them for fear of his sanity. Well Miguel hated to tell him, but he'd lost that long before he'd met him. What kind of nobility had they been to produce such a person as Viole? He was silly, and flighty, and so unlike anything Miguel had ever come across in his days of ruffles and lace. Maybe that was why Lord Dilandau claimed to enjoy him so much; he was different.

Miguel could be different too; he just didn't choose to be. Someone had to set an example of dignity in the regiment, besides Dilandau, who did have wild tendencies at times. They neared the castle and stopped as the first of their procession arrived at the gates. The loitering servants began welcoming them and helping them remove their saddle bags. 

"Better grab yours now Miguel, here they come," Shesta chuckled, and Miguel glared.

This had better be worth it, he thought bitterly, letting the dirty little man take his small bag of necessities. 

They were going to catch a dragon, if Miguel had to use Viole for bait. 

Now that idea was amusing...  
  


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Van watched the foreign soldiers entering the building from the balcony, feeling oddly on edge. Something about them… he rubbed at the gooseflesh on his bare forearms. He wanted to go downstairs and have a closer look, though Allen had told him to stay away. He was harboring Van, he'd said, and he didn't want anyone else knowing that he was here so soon after the invisible attack on his kingdom. He shrugged the warning off, and ventured down the castle stairs. 

He heard the voices of many, but one in particular was raised above the commotion, and he was speaking badly of Fanelia. Van pushed through the crowd to view the person talking. A pale man stood near Allen, laughing about the devastation Fanelia had fallen under. He was blowing the destruction of his kingdom off, like it was nothing. Who needed it, he said. All at once, it became clear to Van who had been the ones to burn his homeland. He came forward to curse the murderer, "You were the ones who destroyed Fanelia!" he shouted trying to get in the pale man's face. The man turned, sliver hair fluttering about his face. He proved to be only a boy, and for all the youth his face betrayed he was rather tall. He looked at Van with cold ruby eyes, a scowl of disdain etched on his delicate features. Instead of responding to Van however…he looked to Hitomi who turned out to be beside Van. When had she gotten there, and why hadn't he noticed her before?

"You girl, what land are you from that has you dressed in such odd garments?" he demanded, his voice strident and carrying.

"I…"

"The girl is with me, she's one of my paramours," Allen said smoothly, and leaned to press a kiss against Hitomi's cheek. Van sputtered indignantly as the girl's cheeks burned red. Not only was Allen kissing Hitomi in front of him…he'd just been ignored and pushed aside like a…like a peasant! He glared at the silver haired boy, who was in turn glaring at Allen, he stepped back from the scene as if washing his hands of it all. "Show us to our rooms, the first fifteen heads you count after me, are to be given your finest quarters."

Allen barely suppressed a scowl of dislike at the impertinent youth. "Fine." He nodded to a man behind him, who stepped in to guide the soldiers away.

"Van…" Allen's growl was low, and meant for Van's ears only, "we will talk about your disobeying me later. Now get back upstairs, and try to avoid those soldiers."

Sure, Van thought, nodding at Allen and retreating. I'll avoid them…for now.   
  


  
  


******************************************************************************************************************************

"That girl, that one with short hair… she was the one from Fanelia. She's the one that could see us. She pointed right at me," Dallet was informing Gatty, who looked to Shesta for confirmation. Shesta nodded, adding "And the boy is the Fanelian monarch."

"Good!" Miguel clapped his hands and the other 5 Elite started. 

"Miguel, for gods sake, why are you so happy?" Guimel snapped, he had been lying down on one of the single beds trying to take a nap. 

"If she's the girl, and that's the Fanelian King, then the dragon's definitely here. We can catch it, and go the hell home. I'm starting to itch."

Viole snorted, "Well if you wouldn't wash yourself with those scented soaps maybe you'd quit getting those rashes on your…" Viole's last word was cut off as he was rushed by Miguel and pinned to the floor with Miguel's knee in his stomach and hand at his throat. 

"Hey, hey, hey stop it!" Shesta pulled Miguel away from Viole who sat up sputtering curses at Miguel. "We have to go tell Lord Dilandau this information."

"Lets go then!" Dallet looked eager to go. "It's not often we have good news to tell him. And he's been… I don't know, different. Ever since we talked to Folken, you know, he's been…almost friendly."

"What do you think Folken told him?" Viole asked.

"I don't know, but I wish he had said it a long time ago," Guimel muttered stretching. "It's nice to see him relaxed. Maybe all that weird stuff from before was from nerves. He was probably giving himself ulcers, or something."

Shesta looked troubled, what did Folken say to him? "Lets go. We'll have to ride out to the Vione to get further attack plans, and our Alseides units tonight, after we tell Lord Dilandau."  
  
  
  
  
******************************************************************************************************************************

He was in the company of two other captains, when they knocked and entered. Dilandau rose and stood before them, "Lord Dilandau, the girl from downstairs, the strange one. She's the one from Fanelia that could see through our stealth cloaks, and that boy was King Fanel."

Dilandau nodded, "I knew the boy was King… but the girl…" he smiled disturbingly, and looked delightedly at his slayers. "I told Folken we'd catch the dragon before morning. Lets go, we'll have to go back to the Vione to get our units. Captain Blakely, the Dragonslayers are moving out… location of dragon confirmed. Further orders will be issued to your regiment upon our return to the Vione."

The tall dark haired man stared hard at Dilandau and his slayers, before acknowledging the orders gruffly. He was rolling his eyes when he choked as strong fingers encased his throat and pushed against his larynx painfully, "Can you say, yes sir, a little more… respectfully, Captain?"

"Y…y…yes sir," the man stuttered as best he could through Dilandau's choking grip. The other captain stood back, eyes wide with horror. 

"Much better," Dilandau purred, pushing a little harder, smirking and only releasing when a trickle of blood ran from the man's nose. "Remember that for next time, because if you address me disrespectfully again, or roll your eyes, I will break your neck."

"Yes, yes Lord Dilandau," the man gurgled holding his bruised throat, ignoring the blood dribbling down his lips getting into his mouth. 

"Very, very good. Did you hear that Slayers, he called me Lord. Is there anything you would like for him to call you?"

Dallet nearly choked, Guimel's eyes bulged from his head, and Viole began grinning like a fool. Shesta and Gatty chanced a look between each other communicating privately, and Miguel stood looking supreme, "They can call me, sir."

"Sir is fine with me….Lord Dilandau," Dallet said, and Guimel agreed.

"Sir sounds nice," Gatty and Shesta decided.

"He can call me anything I want?" Viole inquired, looking like a small boy in a confectionary shop. 

"Anything."

"I want to be… your supreme majesty, I want to be god; I want to be…"

"Sir, will do fine for Viole as well," Miguel said looking pained. 

"You hear that Blakely, my Elite wants you to call them sir..."

"Y...y ... yes.... sir, sir's..."

"Very good. Dallet, Guimel, Viole, go get the rest of the slayers," Dilandau commanded. "Tell them to get their things together and to follow you out of the castle... quietly... not drawing attention to yourselves. Gatty, Shesta, Miguel, and I will have the horses ready for your arrival."

"Yes sir!"

Dilandau smirked, pleased with the fear in the older captains' eyes, and further pleasured by the elevation of testosterone in his bloodstream at thought of the forthcoming chase. He was going to have fun tonight, he felt sure of it. 

If only he could convince the rest of his aching body the same thing. 

Suck it up, Dilandau, and keep smiling!

"Lets go."

  
  


**Author's Note: Whoo hoo time for fun now *rubs palms together* So, was this chapter ok, or should I work on it? I hope my anxiousness to get it finished doesn't show...much....lol. Please review, I love mail more than ice cream *bats eyes* Take care!**


	7. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: Yay, I finally got to the fun stuff! Thank you for all of your reviews. I have literally not been able to put this story down now because of them. I'm working on the next chapter right now :) This is the first story I've done where I've had chapters done within days of each other, and have to wait to post because I want to put some space between my posts lol. I hope you enjoy this chapter! **

  
  
  
  
  
  


Disclaimer: This is getting redundant. I think this will be the last time I say I don't own Escaflowne, so if someone sees the next chapter and doesn't see a disclaimer, and assumes I own Escaflowne, so be it. They can have my $2.50, I don't care, lol.

  
  
  
  
  
  


Chapter 6

  
  
  
  


Folken was waiting for them on the docks when they returned, "Dilandau," he said, reaching to stop the boy as he passed. 

Dilandau whirled around, his eyes wild and glittering, "Folken... you better have something really good to say to me, if not then let go." He pushed the taller man away roughly when his hand did not leave his shoulder immediately. He was trying to interfere with his capture of the dragon. His insides gave a delightful wriggle for once with excitement, and his limbs were beginning to tingle and throb with pent in desire. Time to fight, time to fight, time to fight! 

"You are to bring the dragon in alive."

Dilandau's eyes widened, "Alive Strategos? But of course...I wasn't planning on killing it." A dead prisoner is no fun at all. He barely withheld a chuckle, he was becoming giddy. He looked to his Oreades longingly, and waved for his Slayers to go ahead and start loading their guymelefs. "Is that all?"

"I suppose there's no way I can talk you out of going, your eyes tell me that much is impossible Do not overtax yourself."

Dilandau smirked, "Don't worry about me Strategos." He ran to his Oreades, puzzled over his newfound strength. He always seemed supercharged before a battle, but this was...strange. He liked it a lot, it was leagues better than how he'd been feeling only an hour earlier. It was the upcoming struggle, violence always made him feel better. He climbed into the Oreades, shutting the hatch and stroking the controls lovingly. "Can everyone hear me?" he almost purred into the small microphone.

"Yes sir."

"Awaiting orders sir."

"Excellent, we're going to go out in Points formation sending off 4 Alseides at a time, plant yourself in the woods of Astoria and cloak yourselves upon landing. I will give you the next command on the ground. Break into your groups."

He arranged his Points formation so that each group of 4 could have at least one or two Elite among them. He usually joined the group with the Slayers that needed a little more training, so they could watch him and learn, and he could watch them and learn. They flew out like large ducks in their distinctive V pattern, the small groups leaving in 10 to 15 minute intervals of each other.

  
  


The ride was nothing out of the ordinary, for they'd made the trip by Alseid before, but as they landed his heart began to hammer in his chest. It was as ready for action as he was. He licked his lips hungrily as he thought of all the damage he was about to inflict. He looked at the time piece just above his head...not yet... 

He hated waiting, but he could if needed be. In the meantime he'd just pleasure himself with thoughts of taking off Allen Schezar's big head. Maybe he'd cut his hair first, let him see that lovely waterfall of blond lying on the ground beside before he finished the job. He laughed at the mental image, startling those nearest to him by beginning to move forward. Every cell in his body was screaming for action so loud it deafened him to any sound not louder than the pounding of blood in his ears. "Dragonslayers... move out onto the grounds, search and destroy and remain in stealth mode. Go!"

He rushed out ahead of them all, amiss their weak protests. His Oreades was faster than their Alseides and he knew they couldn't keep up with him. They just moved too damn slow.... blood, fire, action.... he craved it. He brought down trees in his impatience to break onto the castle grounds. He stopped just before stepping into the open to take in the scene. Fools.

He saw Allen's lazy guards playing lookout, yawning and scratching themselves in the most unrespectable places. They were unworthy of his time, but as long as their blood ran red...he shrugged. He could sense his Slayers finally catching up, and quickly threw himself out onto the field. He still was not noticed...not until he knocked down one of the watch towers and giggled insanely as two of the lazy lookout plummeted to their deaths. Such a shame... 

Oh Allen, would you just look at the horrible mess I'm making of your castle. You'd better come out stop me... He cackled again raising the left arm of his Oreades and aiming his flame thrower at another watch tower. As he watched the pile of bricks go up in flame, and imagined the screaming of the burning men, he finally saw melef units moving out onto the courtyard. Such slow reaction time, he was honestly disappointed in Schezar...oh well, time to play. He punched into one melef unit sending it flying backward into the pile of fiery bricks he'd just made. People were always trying to tell him he played too rough with his toys. Look, he'd broken one.

  
  
  
  


~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

  
  


"Oh no, it's the curse of the Mystic Moon!"

"It's Zaibach you idiot!" 

Allen rubbed at his twitching brow. "Man the melef units, and get out there! I'm going out in Scherazade. Gaddes, go help with the preparation of the Crusade for departure." Allen moved swiftly past his men. He needed to find Van, Hitomi, and the other one that had been brought in only hours earlier by one of his men, the beast girl. To protect the king he was going to have to abandon his fort and save as many lives of his men as possible, the enemy did look to have the upper hand in this affair. 

The girls were still in the room he'd left them in. It was a simple task ordering them dressed and sending them off with a servant to where Gaddes would be waiting to place them aboard the Crusade, his flying leviship. Some of his better men were already on the ship preparing it for flight and stocking it with supplies. 

The only person he needed to find then, was the stubborn boy king. He stiffened as he realized the headstrong monarch was probably outside where all the fighting was. He'd had the Escaflowne moved already to the Crusade, and Van would probably have run to that holding place first and discovered it empty aside from Scherazade, and the smaller melefs of Allen's soldiers. He had no fear of Van taking Scherazade, because only one of Schezar blood could make the cockpit open and be able to pilot it. That meant the idiot was out there armed with only his sword. 

He stalked past the last of his soldiers running out to join the battle to load into Scherazade. "Um Boss, we were gonna load Scherazade onto the Crusade... You don't have to..."

"No, I'm going out in Scherazade," I've got to find a pig-headed Fanelian despot. "As soon as the supplies you're bringing, and both girls are aboard the Crusade you are to take off. Wait for me at our established rendevous point for precisely 20 minutes, if I don't come, then you are to leave and get the girls and the rest of the men to safety."

"But Boss..."

"Now! Those supplies you have are the last, go!"

"Yes sir."

Scherazade was just as he'd left it last. He climbed into the cockpit starting the huge machine and directing it out of its hangar onto the courtyard. The carnage was revolting, he stopped beside a damaged melef, one of his soldiers was propped up beside it, a grimace of pain on his face, "Kio, are you alright?"

"Fine Boss...sorry..."

"Don't worry about that. If you can move, get to the Crusade, they are about to depart."

"Yes sir."

Allen watched the man pull himself up before he began to move again. Where are you Van? 

"Allen!"

He smirked at the sound of the young voice, it was nice when the quarry came looking for you instead, "Van..." 

  
  
  
  


~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

  
  
  
  


Not enough fire... There we are, it was like icing a cake...if he liked cake. He laughed hysterically as the little men floundered about outside trying to put out the flames devouring their clothing. The castle grounds were littered with rocky debris, broken melefs, and fallen bodies. They still hadn't seen a dragon, but it would come out eventually, they'd just tear the whole place down about its head. 

He wiped the tears from his eyes, he was really enjoying this too much, literally. His hands shook as they operated the controls hot and sticky with perspiration, and his heart and respiration rate had escalated beyond comfort level. He'd stopped trying to wipe the sweat from his brow minutes after the attack started. It was a hopeless barrage, and he learned to tolerate the sting in his eyes, as he caused more destruction. He couldn't get enough... the only thing that seemed to abate the pangs within him was watching the fires burn. The desire to kill was unquenchable, and it was...hurting him. 

He'd never moved so fast before, his senses had never been as astute, but it came at such a price. He rested a hand against his heaving chest, there was nothing he could do to calm himself, he could only keep going. "That's it, burn it all..." he said into his microphone to his Slayers. His voice was trembling, he hoped no one detected it. 

"Dilandau, have you had enough of this senseless slaughter?" Folken. The rage heightened, and he almost moaned as it burned him, and made him strike out to release the energy. More of the castle went up in flames, "This is the best way to destroy all the evidence." He was proud of the flippant tone he was able to manage. "We're smoking the dragon out Folken, we'll have it momentarily."

"Do you honestly think this Allen Schezar of Astoria would be as foolish, as to let himself get herded by fire?"

Impatience, impertinence, and anger surged within him causing his vision to double, and for one frightening moment go dark. "What are you getting at Folken?" he breathed, he sounded mildly irritated as he clenched his teeth.

"The waterfall at the cliff behind the castle, they say that birds build nest behind waterfalls to prevent them from being attacked, you see."

He gasped, the sharp pain of being evaded punched him in the gut, and he felt his face burn with overwhelming indignation...gods make it stop... "They're behind the castle!" Confirm it, Folken, as soon as you confirm it I can kill them. Killing them will stop this, it has to! Folken was silent, Dilandau had his answer. 

"They're behind the castle! Follow me!" he ordered to his troops, moving before they all had time to regroup. 

  
  
  
  


~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

Allen reached the edge of the cliff, the start of the waterfall, "Hang on tight, Van."

"What the.... hey! No way! Let me...Aaaaah!" Van clutched at the large metal fingers of Scherazade as the guymelef free fell from the top of the cliff toward the unforgiving rapids below. Suddenly, splitting the curtain of the waterfall, the large gray stern of an airship appeared. Scherazade landed hard on its roof, surely rocking everyone inside and making them fall on their behinds. Van sighed in relief that Allen wasn't completely crazy. Hitomi and Merle had to be inside of this thing, and the Escaflowne. 

"Are you alright Van?" Allen asked.

"Yeah..yeah fine, just tell me next time before you do something like that!" Van snorted. He started to climb down from the hand of the guymelef. Things were calm here, it looked like they'd gotten away from the horrific battle totally. "Where are we going to, Allen?"

"To see King Aston, he has to be informed about Zaibach's betrayal. I always knew that country wasn't to be trusted. Here, I'll let you down..."

  
  
  
  


~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

  
  


"Well looky at what we got down there. I have to give Schezar credit for this, he almost managed to get away from me. Come on, we're going down there after them!" Kill, kill, kill.....it'd become his mantra, the pain of the drums that gave it its driving beat pounded in his head, his chest... it was getting hard to breathe, and he was starting to see stars. 

He was revving his flight engine, when someone interrupted him.... no one interrupts me... Have to stop this pain... Can't think.... "But Lord Dilandau, our stealth cloaks don't operate while we're in flight mode."

Gatty... "Then kill anyone who sees you!" Dilandau struck the blue Alseid next to him, feeling a small amount of relief as it felt to one knee. He then leapt from the cliff starting his engine and spiraling after his target. His Slayers joined him, but were not quite able to keep up with his rapid pace... perhaps he was traveling too fast. Oh well, they'll catch up eventually.

  
  
  
  


~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

  
  


Van stepped onto the roof of the ship, and peered up at Allen from the open grate in Scherazade, he supposed a "thanks" was in order, but he paused as he heard something odd. He turned his head, "Allen..what..."

"Their guymelefs can fly?"

They watched as the pack of blue guymelefs led by a slightly larger red one shot directly above them in the sky in a sweeping circle like vultures before the red one dove toward the leviship. "They are so fast!"

"We're in trouble..."

  
  
  
  


~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

"You're mine Schezar!" Dilandau cried landing hard on the ship, and grinning ferally as he stared at Schezar's guymelef.

"You've had your way for long enough," Schezar growled at him, making him grin harder...oh he hadn't had his way yet. Schezar extended his blade toward him, and Dilandau pulled his, and threw himself into the first attack. Blood, he wanted to spill it. Allen parried his move, and brought his blade down in a vicious downward slash. Dilandau ducked out of the way swinging at Allen, letting the body of his Oreades spin wildly blade extended making himself into a deadly whirlwind. He brought his blade down again, and Allen caught it, "You're pretty good Dilandau," he said.

Hysteria bubbled within him, making him want to start giggling again, "You're strong Allen, I like that!" he hollered back, lunging at him again. As long as he kept fighting it didn't hurt so much, good thing Schezar was such a marvelous opponent. The other men had gone down far too fast. Just keep coming at me Schezar, I'm going to kill you slow.

  
  
  
  


~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

  
  


"He is going to get himself killed!" Shesta watched in horror at the reckless way Dilandau was throwing himself at Allen Schezar. "What is he doing?"

"Everything he taught us not to..." Gatty said. "I'm going down."

"He'll be pissed," Guimel warned him.

"He'll live," Gatty plunged to the fight between Schezar and his leader. Lord Dilandau was fighting like a crazy man...an extremely skilled crazy man. Gatty still couldn't help but wonder at the level of skill Dilandau was displaying. But his style, the risks he was taking... it was suicidal. He stretched forth his blade swiping at Schezar as he landed, and made the spar a three person argument. The other Alseides had followed his lead now plunking toward the large leviship, and taking turns ramming it or circling it and fencing it in so it couldn't move any further. Gatty felt relieved, now he might not get singled out as much if Dilandau got upset at his interference. 

"Gatty! What are you doing? I'm busy. Go help Shesta, or something!" His voice sounded so pleasantly occupied Gatty almost apologized. He was about to respond when the ship shook again, rocking the three guymelefs standing on its nose. They all looked to see a white guymelef...THE white guymelef, Escaflowne, jumping from the ship. Once it was airborne it transformed...into...

"The Escaflowne just turned into a dragon!" someone hissed.

"A dragon....so that's the dragon Dornkirk's been talking about! All this time I thought... ah hell," Gatty could practically hear Dilandau caressing his lips with his tongue. "Gatty, this one's yours!" Gatty watched as Dilandau shot back into the sky after the white dragon, and could do nothing to delay him. He was left a little busy as Schezar tried to swing out after Dilandau, and he'd had to counter his move and block him in.

"We're not finished yet!" Allen shouted after the disappearing red guymelef.

"Yes you are," Gatty uttered, bringing his blade down on the night, a move that would have knocked one of his fellow slayers on his ass, but Schezar blocked him, and... his eyes widened as he lost his footing, then Allen slashed across wounding his Alseid and spilling the liquid metal. With one last bump, Gatty went sprawling off the edge of the leviship. He hoped Lord Dilandau wasn't looking back as he toppled into the water with a great splash. He could hear Viole chuckling over his speakers, "Nice Gatty....very nice."

"Shut up Viole."

  
  


~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~

  
  


He smiled as the dragon took turns and caught updrafts to try to lose him and his slayers. It was all and all very exhilarating. He hadn't hunted dragons in a long time, and he'd forgotten how arousing it was. He frowned a bit, "Come on now little dragon, if you don't fly any faster we're going to catch up," and the chase was so much fun. He would hate for it to have to end so soon. He raised his flame thrower and launched a shower of fire after the dragon, maybe that would quicken his pace. If possible his heart rate accelerated even more at the tongues of flame stretching to lick the dragon's belly. 

"Lord Dilandau?"

He had lost some altitude as his vision grayed, "Faster!"

He fired another shot, smirking as it hit the dragon and it floundered a bit. That felt nice...

After a few more blazes the dragon reverted back to its original guymelef form and landed in a rocky mountain valley. Dilandau prepared for landing, but not before shooting a few more flames setting the ground afire around the Escaflowne. Perfect backdrop for a battle. It looked like Hades... He dropped down to the earth, and then quickly cloaked himself as he moved forward towards the royal guymelef. He didn't plan on fighting the young king while invisible, this was just to unnerve him a bit. He chuckled as he purposefully took noisy steps, letting the king hear his approach and see his footprints. 

Is your heart pounding too your highness?

He let himself be seen when he was standing right in front of the king. "Hello, your majesty..." he purred mockingly. "So... I bet you led me all the way out here as a decoy to get me away from your ship to save your little friends, hmm? How heroic of you! But you what? I can't stand heroics, in fact, I absolutely hate them!" He didn't pull out his blade at all, but hit the Escaflowne hard with his metal fists. He rained one blow after another on the body of the guymelef, beginning to get frustrated when the other did not retaliate. He only struck harder....fight me dammit! He struck him in the head area, and watched in disgust as the Escaflowne fell.

"He's down... already...?" I'm going to be sick, he thought. He needed more! Stupid dragon wasn't enough, he should have stayed with Schezar! He raised the foot of his Oreades to kick at the damnable thing.

"Dilandau..." Folken's scolding voice crackled over the speakers. "I thought I told you he was to be taken alive."

"I was just having a little fun Strategos," Dilandau's eyes went wide as if Folken were standing near him, and he was explaining himself while trying to appear innocent of all crimes. "He's still breathing..."

"Bring him back to the Vione."

"Yeah...sure...." Dilandau rested a hand against his chest, trying to get a deep breath, and trying to avoid panic. "Elite, take the Escaflowne, everyone else will continue to patrol the area for Schezar and his flunkees. Refina, you're in charge of the team. Gatty?"

"Yes Lord Dilandau?"

"Nice swan dive, you're polishing my armor for two weeks when we get back, you know this right?"

"Yes sir."

Now it was Viole, Miguel, and Guimel chuckling. 

"Shut up!"

  
  
  
  


"Leave the Escaflowne in the hangar. Then you can do whatever you want, no lights out tonight," He gave his final command before they approached the Vione's landing dock. 

"Yes sir."

He swallowed hard, the taste of the bile at the back of his throat was sour. His heart still hammered in his chest, his lungs still labored to exhaustion. His stomach churned, and his head ached. His vision swam in and out, he was didn't know how he made it back to the Vione, until he had landed and realized, much to his horror, that Gatty had kept a hand on his shoulder to guide him. He hadn't noticed at all how close the other pilot had been. Had the other slayers noticed?

He watched his Elite pouring from their Alseides congratulating each other and stopping to look at the captive dragon. Not so impressive now, was it? He didn't leave his cockpit until they'd cleared...or he rather he thought they all had cleared, instead they had moved out of his field of vision. His Elite stood at the base of his Oreades staring up at him. "Are you alright sir?"

Dilandau wanted to scowl at them and roar for them to go away...but, after climbing out of the machine he decided to throw up instead. He flinched as hand touched his back, "Dallet, go get a medic," Shesta's voice ordered.

"No," Dilandau spat. He wiped his mouth again, not wincing at the blood on his hand. "No medic." He straightened, and turned to stare down his Elite. They looked fearful, not of him, but for him. 

"But Lord Dilandau, you don't look well," Viole tried to protest.

"I'm fine, go away, go to your rooms.... I have to find Folken, and give him the mission report. Go, now!"

Slowly they backed away from him, leaving him alone reluctantly. He wrapped his arms around himself as he shook. He wasn't cold, why couldn't he stop shivering? He sank down to the floor pulling his knees to his aching chest, and began to rock slowly....it couldn't last forever, it had to end sometime. Please be soon, please be soon...

"Dilandau?" 

"How long have you been watching me Folken?" He didn't even raise his head. 

"Long enough..." his head was tilted back, and two soft fingers were at his throat checking his racing pulse. "Open your eyes, let me check your pupils..."

Dilandau complied without question.

Folken's image was fading in and out of darkness, he thought he saw the man shake his head. More shapes appeared behind him, soldiers... "Keep surveillance on the dragon, I will be back to tend to it shortly." 

Dilandau felt himself being gathered up and pulled to his feet. He stumbled along beside the taller man, letting him support him as they traveled down the long hallways of the Vione. He didn't care where they were going anymore, all he knew was the raging waves of pain flooding him and the heat of the blood in his ears. He was going to explode, he was going to burn up just like Allen Schezar's castle. His knees gave way, and felt himself being swept off his feet. Was he flying? He was certainly moving very quickly, much more quickly than he could have walked. 

"You shouldn't have gone out tonight," Folken was saying to him. "I knew something like this would happen."

Yeah, yeah, whatever Folken...you talk too much, I'm trying to sleep.

He was laid down on something soft, and felt himself being stripped of his armor. Folken did so like to undress him, he mused.

He kept his eyes shut and concentrated on breathing, and not vomiting again. He could hear Folken rummaging around the room... He should clean, then he wouldn't spend quite so much time looking for things.

There was shuffling, and he felt Folken's warm breath on his face, his fingertips were pushing at his eyelids again, letting in the accursed light. He was trying to sleep, hadn't Folken heard him say that?

Through the open eye he saw the long syringe Folken held... and felt his insides

freeze in panic. The long needle, the dark cloak.... he knew it was Folken, but something deep inside of him, something primitive and old made him begin to scream and kick. Oh it hurt like hell, but he just couldn't lie still and willingly let someone put him under!

"Dilandau, this won't hurt you... it's going to counteract the imbalance in your system. It's going to help you, stop struggling, I don't want to strap you down."

Strap him down...strap him down.... No! No! No! 

One arm was held down firmly, and in his weakened state he couldn't squirm out of the grasp. He felt the sharp sting of the needle entering his flesh and screamed as loud as he could only to choke himself. The needle was removed, and he was rolled onto his side where he promptly threw up. 

He heaved and gasped, attempting not to cry at the pain the liquid had brought as it burned his esophagus on the way up. He was being moved again, into a sitting position, a cool glass of something was pressed against his lips, and he was forced to drink. It was cold and sweet. He hated sweet, and wanted to spit it back out, but he swallowed. His mouth and throat were so dry anything would do. The glass was pulled away, much to his dismay, he was still thirsty, but an overpowering feeling of exhaustion deluged his system and he sagged in the arms that were ready for him to fall forward. Before he completely lost consciousness he heard Folken's voice said quietly, "Congratulations on your capture of the dragon Dilandau, you've earned a rest."

Well, if he was going to die, at least he'd completed his mission before he went. But it was a shame he was going to have to miss the party.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note: Well? Did it suck? Did you like it? Let me know! Take care, and please review! Next chapter, more action :) **


	8. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Hello again, I want to thank everyone for the great reviews. My face was about to split in half that was how big I was smiling when I peeked into my inbox. I'm glad you're enjoying the story, and for everyone who's reviewed me more than once I love you dearly. It makes me nervous though, because now it's like damn...what if this next chapter isn't as good as the last and they hate it? Lol, well, I hope it never happens, but if it does you do not have to be nice about it ;). Ok, warning...this chapter is extremely long. It was actually going to be longer, but then Eboni the Long-Winded looked at the page counter and went "Eep!" One more warning, though this story is not a yaoi story, there is a slight implication near the end of the chapter. Don't worry if you're not into that, this story won't delve into it too deeply at all. Ok, I think this is long enough lol. Hope you enjoy the chapter, and that I haven't scared anyone away!**   
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Chapter 7  
  
  
  


The sedative would be strong enough to keep Dilandau asleep for 12 hours, hopefully the injection he gave him would cause stop his endocrine system from releasing so much epinephrin into his bloodstream. He also hoped it countered the agonist blocking the re-uptake of certain neurotransmitters, and stimulated his auto-receptors before he had a heart attack, and went into total respiratory and cardiac arrest from stress. 

He had placed him in the infirmary for the night for observation, instructing the medics to keep a close eye on his vitals and to have him summoned if anything changed. Dilandau would be furious when he woke up, Folken didn't doubt that, but at least he *would* wake up. Dilandau never thought like that.   
  


The Escaflowne was just as he left it, with three guards posted about it. They bowed to him, and retreated at his approach. Pricking his finger, and letting the blood flow, he placed his hand over the heart of the guymelef, bracing himself against the slight shock of recognition he received from it for being of the royal line of Fanelia. Once he removed his hand, the hatch opened, and a gangly boy in a loose fitting red cotton shirt, and soft tan pants, probably made from animal hide, sprawled out onto the cool floor. Folken gazed down upon him with a slight smile, his little brother was growing to be a handsome man. He recalled thinking, when he was around Van's age, that Van was going to be the ugly duckling of the family. Good thing he hadn't made any wagers on that one.

The boy stirred slightly giving a quiet moan before settling down again. He picked him up easily, and walked with him out of the hangar, past the confused soldiers who awaited to take the prisoner to the holding cells. "Lord Folken?"

"I'll deal with the prisoner personally, you are dismissed."

"But.." 

"Dismissed."

  
  
  
  


******************************************************************************************************************************* 

"We have to go after Lord Van!" The petite cat girl, Merle, was insisting. She gazed longingly out of the large glass windows of the Crusade into the darkness her king had disappeared in. 

"Not with all those Zaibach guymelefs buzzing around," Gaddes said. The Crusade had been steered and hidden in a rocky area temporarily shielded from the view of the enemy soldiers. They watched nervously as they got brief glimpses of dark blue, or heard the flight engines of one of the flying guymelefs coming close to their location. "They're going to spot us eventually if we stay here."

"But if we move we'll lose our chance to find Lord Van! Maybe we could follow them..."

"Those soldiers ain't stupid. They'd never let themselves be followed."

"So how are we going to find him?" Merle demanded, she turned to Allen, "Sir Allen, we are going to look for him, aren't we?"

Allen frowned, he was going to get wrinkle lines from all of this. On one hand he had to get to his king and warn him of Zaibach's treachery, and on the other hand, he had an innocent to save. Both were within the realm of his knightly duties, but which was more important. The king did need to be informed, but Zaibach was not likely to launch an open attack on the capital so soon after the fall of Allen's castle and Fanelia... he had a time cushion for that one. But Van, Zaibach would kill him once he'd outlived his usefulness. It seemed all they wanted was his guymelef, once they got him out of it, he shuddered. He imaged that red-eyed demon child Dilandau chuckling as he poised a sword over Van's jugular. Where on Gaea had they found something as strange in appearance as him? His skin was whiter than milk, his hair silver as the luminance that shone from his sword in the moonlight, and his eyes seemed to glow with a chilling fire ignited from within. He was easy on the eyes yes, easy on the mind, no. The air about him made Allen shiver, there was a coldness there that told Allen he'd be the most deadly of warriors on a battlefield. He'd proven that earlier, if that duel had gone on any longer, Allen might have faltered. He couldn't believe a skinny, anemic-looking, wretch like that had almost beaten him. 

"Sir Allen?" The beast girl again, he supposed he better answer her.

"Yes, yes, we will go after Van."

"How do we find him?" Gaddes asked, he didn't look eager about the idea of venturing after Van, and encroaching on Zaibach territory. 

Allen was at a loss on that one. His best bet would be trying to follow one of the blue guymelefs home, but that would be suicide. There was no way they could go unnoticed.

"Let me help! I bet I can find him!" Hitomi spoke up for the first time in a long while after Van had been taken. Allen looked at the young girl dubiously.

"Why do you think that?"

"I can...I can dowse for him, with my pendant!"

"I told you she was a witch," one of his men whispered to another.

Allen tried not to roll his eyes, and placed a hand on her shoulder, "Hitomi, I..."

"You don't believe I can do it," she said simply, her green eyes hard. Allen blinked as he stared into them. She had intense eyes for a girl so young...she reminded him of someone from his past. "Give me a test, let me show you what I can do."

She wasn't going to take no for an answer, Allen could tell by her tone. "A test?"

"Yes, I'll do a reading for you...and if I get everything right, you trust me to dowse for Van."

His blue eyes widened as he decided on who she reminded him of as she stood with a hand on her hip staring at him unintimidated. 

Celena, she reminded him of his spunky, tomboyish little sister, Celena. And for Celena he would have done anything...

"Ok."

"You'll try me out?"

"Yes, you've interested me. Come down below to my cabin, and we'll see this power of yours in action. If you can prove to me you're legitimate in what you say, we'll trust you to locate Van for us, and go in whatever direction you say he's in."

"Thank you Allen."

You're welcome... Celena.  
  


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"What the hell do we do? Should we jump him? I bet all of us could take him. Then we could knock him out, and take him to sick bay. That could work, huh?" Viole was wringing his hands, and watching his fellow Elite slayers pace about Gatty and Shesta's room, their official headquarters for private meetings. 

"We'd be tried for treason. We can't jump a commanding officer."

"But it's for his own good! That was blood he spit up, I saw it!"

"We ALL saw it Viole!" Miguel snapped irritably. 

"We have to go to Folken again, it's the..."

"Oh a lot of good he did. Lord Dilandau still accompanied us on the mission, and he still got hurt," Guimel pointed out.

"Lord Dilandau's slippery, maybe he tricked him, but this time, in the state he's in...he's not fooling anyone into thinking he's fine. We should tell Folken what happened. If anything he can order Lord Dilandau be taken to the clinic, and he'd be forced to go. He could get orders from Adelphus, or Dornkirk."

"Adelphus and Dornkirk hardly care enough about us to help," Miguel snorted. 

"Well what do you propose we do Miguel?"

Thunderous silence came from Miguel's person, he lowered his eyes to the floor.

"I think," Shesta spoke up for the first time, "that we should tell Lord Folken exactly what happened. It can't hurt anything. Physically moving against Lord Dilandau would just destroy the trust he has in us. Folken knows about medicine, and chemicals, and things."

"He didn't help before..."

"Before was not very long ago, Guimel. Perhaps he didn't have enough time, perhaps Lord Dilandau knocked him down to join us for the mission. We don't know what happened. All we know is he's very ill, and not trying to do anything about it to help himself. You guys can stay here and continue to argue amongst yourselves if you wish, I'm going to Lord Folken."

Shesta strode to the door and didn't pause to wait for his fellow Elite that he knew would be scrambling after him.   
  


  
  


Folken answered the door at Shesta's first knock, and he stared at the slayers patiently, already knowing what they had come for, "Dilandau is in the infirmary resting peacefully. I medicated him, and gave him a sedative. He should wake late tomorrow morning. He'll undoubtably wish to join you for the day, and though you're supposed to be celebrating tonight's victory tomorrow, you still have study hours. I'll try to give him another sedative just before then. I advise you to stay near him, and try to keep him quiet. He will feel much better after a complete day of rest."

He wanted to chuckle at the bewildered expressions on the faces of all of the boys. Shesta was the first to shake off the shock, and blink, "O...ok... thank you, Lord Folken, sorry to bother you. We were just worried."

"You're good soldiers to your captain."

The six bowed dismissing themselves.  


  
  
  


"Figures we still have study hours tomorrow," Viole was grumbling as they walked. They all unconsciously passed through the exit of the Dragonslayer hallway. It wasn't until they were halfway to sick bay did Dallet ask, "Where are we going?"

They all halted, confused. Where were they going? They'd all been moving purposefully in one direction without thought.

Shesta looked thoughtful, "The clinic....to check on Lord Dilandau."

They gazed at one another for a moment longer before starting their trek again. 

"We are getting so weird. We definitely are spending too much time together," Viole said.

"I agree," Miguel sneered eyes locked on the back of Viole's head.

"Eat me, Miguel," Viole retorted.

"When Lord Dilandau's feeling better, I'm going to ask for a new partner."

"You freakin' love me Miguel, stop trying to hide it."

Miguel fumed, turning slightly red, "Cool it Miguel," Gatty said gently. They stopped in front of the infirmary doors.

"Can we just walk in?" Dallet asked. He'd never had the displeasure of needing to be inside the clinic.

Gatty shrugged and pushed the door open letting himself in, Shesta, then Viole, followed. Miguel shrugged his shoulders, and he, Guimel, and Dallet slipped inside as well. 

The clinic was fairly empty, one soldier laid on a bed his eyes half open. He stared at them, half lucid , with contempt. Near the back laid Dilandau. He was on his back, small white circles were taped to his chest with tiny black wires running from them to a machine that beeped with a steady rhythm. A transparent sack of clear liquid ran from a tube into their leader's right arm. 

The pale boy seemed to be asleep. His chest rose and fell softy, his long dark lashes fluttered against his cheeks. His hair was damp and matted, and Shesta used careful fingers to brush the hair off his face. "He's running a fever," he announced after the sensitive pads of his fingertips were exposed to Dilandau' s hot skin.

"How bad do you think he is?" Viole asked. 

"I don't know, but Folken said he'd be ok," Gatty said. "And...he looks a little better."

Shesta frowned, "If you say so Gatty."

"What do we do now guys? Do we want to take up posts in here, or..."

"Lord Dilandau would blow a gasket if we did that. We'd better just go to bed. That way we can wake up fresh in the morning to come up with ideas to keep him quietly occupied tomorrow."

"Oh yeah."

"Come on knuckle heads, lets hit the showers so we can go to bed."

******************************************************************************************************************************* 

The comforting sounds of the familiar tune gently woke him from the cushions of deep sleep. He ignored his minor pain from strained muscles and bruises, trying to place a name to the whistled tune. He flickered back into consciousness slowly, his eyes resting on the unfamiliar ceiling and focusing. He gazed about the room without moving, not waiting to alert another presence in the room to his being awake right away. 

He was in a small bed chamber, the walls were metal and bare, the bed plain and simple, yet comfortable, a small gas lantern cast an odd light over the only other breathing figure in the room besides him. It moved very little as it continued to whistle. Van sat up in bed slowly, "How do you know one of Fanelia's songs?"

The person turned, it was male, and very tall. He approached the bed and glowered down at Van, his face masked in shadow. He said nothing, just stood there. Van blinked, he could count the seconds as heart beats. His eyes scanned the are the man had left, a desk, and on that desk laid his sword! In a wild bout of spontaneity, Van dashed forward, shouldering the figure aside to grab his sword. He unsheathed it and held it before him threatening toward the man who'd turned to face his new direction. "Ok....how about you show me where my guymelef is, and I get the hell out of here."

"Fool, do you honestly think Zaibach soldiers will give in to such threats? You cannot escape this floating fortress, my brother."

Van blinked, this was not going how he'd planned. He could feel beads of sweat blossoming on his brow, and he took a nervous step back from the man cloaked in darkness. Hastily he placed the clean blade of his sword to his neck, "If the only way to live is to be used as one of your pawns...."

The sword was knocked out of his hands faster than he could blink, "Never throw your life away..." The man whispered shattering the short silence after the ringing of metal striking metal had died. He unbuttoned his cloak, then worked to remove his shirt. Van swallowed hard...he'd heard about this sort of thing happening, but he'd thought it was stories... He looked about frantically for a weapon, he would not be used as a sexual possession! The last shirt fell away, and he couldn't help but glance at the pale torso of the man and gasp. One of his arms was made of metal, but that wasn't the grand finale. Van's eyes widened as the man...sprouted large snowy white wings from his back. Single white feathers wafted from the impressive span to the floor, and Van's mouth nearly scraped the floor, "B...brother?" he stammered.

"It's been a long time, 10 years hasn't it?" his older brother, Folken spoke. He was putting his shirt and cloak back in place. 

Van's former anxiety became anger, his hands squeezed into tight fists, and he shook lightly, "I always believed that you had died trying to complete the Rite of Succession, were killed by the dragon. I believed that you weren't a coward and that you didn't run away! What the hell are you doing here, with Zaibach? Why didn't you come home? And WHY did you burn Fanelia to the ground?!"

His brother didn't answer, "Answer me!" 

The chuckling coming from Folken wasn't helping him contain his temper, he stalked forward grabbing the older man and trying to force him around, "Why are you laughing? I didn't say anything remotely funny!"

He stifled a gasp, and Folken spun in his grasp, in turn placing his metal hand on his shoulder tightly, scratching him lightly. "Come with me and serve Emperor Dornkirk, join Zaibach. There we will set the future back on course."

"What the...."

Before the he could object, he was being pulled closer to his brother's body, he thought for one insane moment Folken was trying to hug him. His face was against Folken's shoulder as Folken whispered his nonsense into his ear. Then he jumped as a something sharp pierced the skin of his neck. His eyes went wide as saucer as he realized he'd been injected with something... he fell to his knees trying to fight the dizzying effects, but it was to no avail; he lost total consciousness only a fraction of a second later.  


  
  


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Allen sat across from Hitomi at a small wooden table in his cabin. A deck of cards sat between them and a candle to light the area. Hitomi wore a grave expression on her face as she pulled cards from the deck and began to arrange them. As she selected cards, she would state their names, and tell him then what it might mean about him or his future. So far it was all talk of journeys, adventures, and prestige. Anyone could know that information, but he let her go on. Her jaw was set with determination, and he couldn't crush her hopes of being useful just yet when her heart was so far into it. 

"The Fool... a life led one's own way, actions flying in the face of common sense. This card describes your father's personality, Allen. Its shadow haunts and destroys your family; a family divided."

Allen frowned, he never talked about his past to anyone, so none of his crew could have told her. How could she know about his father, and how he'd selfishly left his family...he and his mother, and younger sister... And after he left, the family went to hell. His mother had wasted away waiting for him, his sister had been spirited away. It was all his fault.

"You blame him for everything that has befallen your household."

He kept his back straight, and tried not to show anything in his expression, "Ok, continue."

He watched the girl as she seemed to combat some emotions within herself. She stared at the next card nervously, and avoided his eyes. "Are you alright, Hitomi?"

"Um...yeah, fine." She bit her lip, and finally looked up at him. She laid her finger on the card she'd been staring at, "Justice... the card of judgement. In the near future you and father...may be reunited. But you will dwell on the past and hate him for it." 

He narrowed his eyes a bit, and he stopped her as she reached for the next card. He didn't want nor need to hear anymore. The girl knew enough about his past to make him wary of her, and he had no desire to hear more about the future she was trying to reveal to him. He MAY be reunited with that loser? Well, he was going to make sure that may be, never was. He'd sooner take consort with Kio.

"Thank you, Hitomi, that's enough." He signaled to one of his men he knew was hiding just outside the door, and a land map of the known continents of Gaea were placed in his outstretched hand. 

"But..."

"You pass," he slapped the map down on the table spreading it out, and he gazed at her with a slight smile.

"I pass?"

"Yes. Now tell us, where is Van Fanel?"  


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Who the hell does Folken think he is? Dilandau grumbled to himself as he removed the IV trickling pale liquid into his flesh. He ripped small electrodes from his chest and laced his shirt. He ignored the medics who were babbling Aesculapian nonsense about why he shouldn't be tampering with the IV, or the electrodes, and about how his temperature was 3 degrees above what it should be. 

He needed a cold shower. He was still sticky, and he didn't even want to think about how he must smell. He bet he looked a perfect fright too. He frowned, his Dragonslayers were probably looking for him. He'd scared the hell out of his Elite. He needed to go show them he was ok, but first the shower... 

He slid off the bed, his feet found the floor ok, but his head still wasn't too sure in which direction was up and which was down. He swayed a bit, and had to be steadied by someone. "Lord Dilandau, really, you should take the day off."

"Did I ask you about what I should do?" Dilandau spat, once the world stopped spinning so quickly.

"No sir."

"That's what I thought." He pulled away slowly, and made his way out of the infirmary. How long had he been in there? He'd lost all track of time. Perhaps he should have asked, but he couldn't bear to be in there another second. He'd just find out for himself when he got to his room. 

He took the back way to avoid seeing his slayers before he was presentable. In his room, he stripped off all of his damp clothing, and left them in a pile on the floor. Someone would pick them up later he knew. He was usually neater than that, and liked his room to stay in some semblance of order...except when he was in a mood, and he broke things, but those messes were always cleaned within the hour by the appropriate personnel. He drifted between the idea of a cold bath, or a cold shower. He didn't know if he could remain standing safely for the entire duration of the shower he wanted to take. He felt filthy. But then in the comfort of the large bathtub, he could easily fall asleep and drown. 

He stood in the bathroom weighing his options as he leaned against the wall beside the sink. He decided on the shower was the lesser of two evils. If he fell asleep or fainted in there, the shock of impact with the floor would wake him the hell up, or cause enough noise for someone to run in and try to resuscitate his naked ass. He stepped into the glass box, closing the door after himself and turning on the cold water. The arctic spray washed over his body, its liquid hands wanting to take his pains away. They massaged his neck and shoulders, trying to ease the tension, and he tried to relax and give in to it...but the nausea and vertigo wouldn't release him. He leaned against the glass wall for support, knowing he was going to have to end this soon if he wanted to stay conscious. Soap...he needed to cleanse himself first...where was it? 

His hands were clumsy things as they fumbled for the soap, its position was fuzzy, and he had grabbed a moisturizer and his shampoo before finding the object of his desire. It was torture to stretch his arms to smear the lather over his sensitive skin. He saw spots every time he bent over. He couldn't find it in himself to scrub, and just let the water lick away the bath foam instead of a sponge or towel. He rested more of his weight against the glass as the cold stream pounded against him, just a few minutes more, then he would come out and collapse into bed.   
  


He opened his eyes, desperately trying to combat the steady attack of water seeping into them. He slowly brought a hand to cover them, sputtering as water ran into his mouth an nose. One side of his face and body was flat against something smooth and hard, while the other side was being rained on by chilly water... he was on the shower floor, and he felt the strange sensation of knowing that some time had passed. His chin was resting on his knees, and he shivered slowly bringing himself up out of the fetal position he was curled in, and sitting up. Ringlets of wet hair tumbled into his eyes, and he scooted away from the waterfall closer to the shower door. He frowned, had he blacked out, or fallen asleep? 

He pulled himself up carefully and ducked under the water again to turn the water spigot off. He trembled, and brushed his hair back off his forehead. He stepped out of the shower, nearly crying out at the coldness of the floor beneath his feet. He pulled a large crimson towel down from the rack beside the shower quickly and wrapped himself in it. He rubbed the soft folds furiously over his damp skin. The cold shower had done more than he'd wanted it too, now he was freezing. He tossed the towel aside once it was thoroughly soaked, and removed his long black robe from its hook. He covered his nude body and left the bathroom wanting nothing more than to curl up in his nice cozy bed and warm himself. Instead, he went to his closet and got dressed. 

He pulled on satin black pants instead of leather ones, he wanted something less restricting. The pants were a little slack in the waist and looser at the thigh. He didn't ponder the meaning of that for too long as he moved further within the realms of his closet. Shirts... he usually wore short or no sleeves under his armored overcoat, because he tended to overheat. He frowned at the short sleeved lace up shirts...he was too chilled to even imagine wearing something with no sleeves. He pulled out a long sleeved button up black cotton shirt. The tails were long and would reach to the thigh if he wore it untucked. He chose the shirt, pulling it over his head after undoing the top few buttons. 

He looked at his overcoat. It was a heavy thing, that made his esteem soar to wear, but he would be embarrassed to no end if he put it on and fell over at its weight. He could barely carry himself, much less an extra 30 pounds. He shook his head, a soldier was to be ready to go off into battle or defend his fortress at any time...but not today, he was just too damned tired. He slid on his soft leather boots, instead of his heavy combat issued ones, and tucked a dagger into his belt. He shut the closet door, and went to the mirror next to brush his limp hair out. It fell in a neat arc around his head, curling up to frame his face. He didn't bother with the diadem, he couldn't wear that without his armor anyway. 

He scowled at his pallid complexion, hating the dark rings around his eyes. His entire appearance looked worn and fragile. He slapped the skin of his face, to see if he could get it to redden a bit, to look more alive. The faint flush of stimulated blood vessels did little to help. It made him look feverish...which he was, but he certainly did not want that to show. He turned away from his reflection, disgusted and not wanting to see anymore of himself. He glanced at the clock to finally see what time it was and gasped, it was after noon. What in the world had he been doing all morning? He fingered the place on his arm where the IV injection site had been, and growled... Folken. 

It was time to visit his favorite person on board, and tell him what he thought of him, and maybe see what he'd done with the dragon Dilandau had so thoughtfully brought to him.  
  


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Folken was noting the properties of the new compound that bubbled before him in a beaker when Dilandau entered his laboratory unannounced. "Folken, whatever you gave me made me sleep all morning."

"You gave your slayers the day off, why not yourself as well? You needed the rest."

Dilandau rolled his eyes, and rubbed his arms through the fabric of his shirt, he was shivering slightly, "What are your plans for the day?"

"I...don't know," the boy admitted. "I was going to join my Elite for study hours, but I don't think I will join in any of their celebrating."

"Can I persuade you to stay in bed and rest?"

"I can find something more useful to do than that, Folken. Do you have those maps of Freid for me yet? I can start plotting aerial routes and mark off good strategic positions and hideaways."

Folken sighed setting down his pencil and black notebook. He faced the silver haired boy, studying his appearance. He didn't look to be at death's door anymore, but he still needed bed rest. He knew how serious his condition was, but it wasn't in his nature to slow down, to relax and think only of himself. His nature was to push and shove, and win at all costs. He wouldn't let himself lie down during the war, so Folken would have to make him.

"I'll give you those plans after your study hour with your regiment." He ignored the boy's glare, and moved to where the lunch his chambermaid Ayah had brought him was heating over the small burner he used to heat his potions. He'd requested a bland vegetable broth, that puzzled the girl. Folken was by no means an unhealthy eater, but he usually ordered meals a bit more substantial than that. The meal had been ordered with Dilandau in mind. The boy was such a finicky eater, and Folken knew he would have no qualms over the broth. "Have you had anything to eat at all?"

"No." 

"Good, then you can eat with me," there were two bowls on the silver tray, and Folken ladled both semi-full with soup, doctoring one bowl with a sedative. 

"I'm not hungry Folken." 

"Do you want the shaking to stop?" Folken held both bowls of warm soup carefully. He brought them to the small table he used when he took meals in his lab. He raised an eyebrow as he sat at the table, and Dilandau joined him after a moment. 

"Is it that visible?"

"Only when you're standing still," Folken said. "I notice you're not wearing your armor."

"It's too heavy... I don't even think I have the strength to swing a sword today. I think I had a black out in the shower. All I know is I woke up on the floor. I'm glad I didn't take a bath I may have drowned."

Folken held a spoon out to Dilandau, staring at him. He could have drowned, and no one would have known about it for hours. He was happy Dilandau had *some* good sense. "You will let me or one of your Dragonslayers know when you take baths next time, Dilandau. That was dangerous."

Dilandau's eyes burned with flame, "I will not inform anyone of my bath times."

"Then you will not take baths."

"Fine, I'll shower," he set down the spoon and frowned into the bowl of light colored liquid, "What the hell is this? Is there meat in this? I don't eat..."

"It's a simple vegetable broth Dilandau, it should be very gentle on your stomach. You haven't been eating properly, and you're losing weight. If you want to regain any of the strength you've lost, you need nourishment. You can get the proper nutrition from eating, or from an IV. Which do you choose, because you will not be going out catching any more dragons or fighting anymore battles if you don't eat today."

"Folken, you....you're being a...a mother hen! My gods, I never thought it was possible, and no one will ever believe me if I tell them!"

Folken suppressed the deep seated need to roll his eyes, as the boy gawked at him. He stared at Dilandau superiorly, and did not lighten his gaze until the boy, still dazed, dipped his spoon into the broth and took a sip from it. He swallowed with difficulty, and Folken offered him a glass of water. The water was gone in seconds, and Folken refilled his glass. 

They ate in silence. Folken finished his soup long before Dilandau had made it to his 5th spoonful, and sat back to observe the boy. The hand that held the spoon wobbled as it made its slow deliveries to his lips. His mouth closed around the spoon, and he seemed to down the food without tasting it. He pushed the bowl away when half of its portions were gone, laying down his spoon and claiming he could eat no more. 

Folken was satisfied, not only had he gotten some food into Dilandau's system, he also was going to make sure he got more rest. He was positive Dilandau had ingested enough of the tranquilizers to get him drowsy enough to want to take a nap later that afternoon. He handed Dilandau a notebook with a few more assignments for the Dragonslayers to take to them when he went to join them.

"By the way, Folken," Dilandau stopped in the doorway, and gazed back at Folken curiously, "What happened with the dragon last night?"

"Let me worry about that."

He didn't even blink at the smirk Dilandau gave him, before he slammed the door. He'd left Van in his chambers to sleep off the depressant he'd injected him with. When he awakened he would be in a better mood to converse with Folken. He knew he could convince his little brother Zaibach's cause was worth the war, and that he should stand behind it...

At times like these, he wished he could have tapped into some of Dilandau's persuasive charm.   
  


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"Stop looking over my shoulder Viole, do your own work!" Miguel snapped, slapping his hand down over the arithmetic problem he was solving to shield it from Viole's prying eyes. 

"Hey, I did my own work!...I was just....checking it against yours!" Viole scratched his head with his pencil, and tried to look innocent of all charges of cheating. 

"Sure, your paper looks plenty blank to me."

"I was doing the work up here," Viole tapped his temple. 

"And as usual you have nothing to show for it," Dallet retorted, he snatched Viole's spiral away and flipped through the pages, "All doodles! Viole you've done nothing for the past hour!"

"That's not true," Viole argued, folding his arms over his chest and looking sulky, "I drew all those doodles didn't I?"

"Now I see why you ran off to join the army," Guimel snorted. "Hey, how long is your essay on the Era of Science, Gatty?"

"I haven't gotten to it yet, I'm still trying to finish the assigned reading. Could it be any dryer?" 

"Yes, so be glad for what we have," Shesta grumbled, highlighting a passage, and scribbling something down in his notebook. "My essay is over 1050 words for now Guimel, how long is yours?"

"Uh.... 32...."

"And you're chastising Viole? You've been working on that essay since we began!"

"Hey, I'm trying here. He's just goofing off."

"I am not, I have that essay written already."

"In your head?"

"Yeah, wanna hear it?"

"Spare us," Miguel rolled his eyes, "Does anyone have the answer for number 15? I give up!"

"I've got it," all six of their heads turned to face the door, as Dilandau entered. He held a folder full of papers, and his own homework notebook. 

"L...Lord Dilandau! We....didn't think you'd be joining us, or we would have waited," Gatty was stuttering eyes still wide with surprise. Everyone rose to their feet respectfully, watching as Dilandau shut the door, and took his usual place on Shesta's bed. Even when he wasn't there, nobody inhabited that reserved space. They all sat back down, but their attention was far from their studies. 

"Are you...feeling better?" Shesta asked, trying to meet Dilandau's eyes. If anything the dark shadows beneath them had become more prominent. 

"Yes," there was a sigh, "sorry if I alarmed any of you."

Miguel had to reach over the desk and shut Viole's agape mouth. "Your armor Lord Dilandau....?" They were not supposed to leave their rooms without it. Though during study hours or free time they were not actually required to wear it. The armor of the Elite sat in Gatty and Shesta' s closet, they could pull it on and spring into action if needed. 

"It's in its special closet waiting for Gatty to pamper it."

Gatty glared at those who chuckled at his expense. "Would you like for me to polish it after study hours?"

"After dinner," Dilandau waved a hand. He opened his notebook to the math section, and tossed it to Miguel who caught it in one hand. 

"Thanks," he wasn't sure if Dilandau wanted him to address him by his proper title right then, so he decided not to. He'd see how Dilandau reacted to it. Nothing. He pulled his legs up on the bed and curled them beneath him. He looked so tired. 

"Hey....anyone want to hear a joke?" Viole had recovered from his shock. "It's really funny."

"Do your homework and shut up Viole!"

"Oh come on, it's not about you!"

"No!"

"Fine, lets talk about Gatty's gold medal worthy dive, shall we? I mean, I feel cheated. Gatty, all those flight training sessions with you, and you never showed us that. You been holding out!"

"Viole!"

"Lord Dilandau, can we toss him over the railing of the flight deck?" Miguel begged.

"If you can replace him."

"Damn!" 

  
  


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Van awoke for the second time in the strange room, but this time he was alone. He sat up, astounded at the fact that he was still unbound. Folken was either very trusting, or very stupid. He was a little shaky on his feet, but after taking a few steps he could feel his former strength returning. He smirked as he eyed his sword back on the table, its golden crest glinting at him. He strapped it back on, and scanned the area for his boots. He was getting out of here. 

Though he had no idea where they would keep the Escaflowne, or just how to pilot it out. He supposed he needed a plan of action, but he quickly decided he needed action first. He would get out this room, then he would think. Maybe some creative burst of inspiration would come to him as he roamed the airship. He tried to open the door. Locked...from the outside! 

So Folken wasn't as trusting, or as stupid as Van initially had assumed. How was he going to get out of this one? He saw no opening where he could try to pick the lock from the inside, and there were no windows. Great, so he was conscious, armed, and stuck. 

Come on think Van, you have to get out of here. Your brother's gone insane, and you can't trust what he might do to you. He's already pumped you full of drugs, and left you locked in his bedroom. He frowned and began to inspect the area. He wanted to think his brother was pretty high up in the Zaibach social ladder, but one couldn't tell that from the decor of his room. It was so plain. The bed was a single, with clean but bare gray sheets, and a drab comforter. There were no pictures, nothing there to personalize the room. The only thing that let him know the room may be lived in by his brother were the books. Folken had always loved to read, and spent much time in the castle's library. Van thumbed through the book lying face down on Folken's night stand. There were no pictures, he scowled, and set it back down. Ok... back to his brilliant plan.

How the hell was he going to get out of there?

He eyed a small intercom beside the door with a small button below it. He grinned evilly to himself, and glided over to it to see just who would come running if the little button was pressed.  


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"That can't be the right answer Dallet, it doesn't make sense!"

"When has politics ever made sense, Guimel?" 

"Shhh..." Shesta put a finger to his lips, motioning soundlessly to Dilandau who appeared to be nodding off slowly. He was propped up on Shesta's double pillows reading his history print out. The papers dipped lower and lower toward his face as his eyelids drooped. Miguel reached over to take the papers from his fingers as they went slack. 

"Looks like we didn't need all those plans we came up with yesterday to keep him calm, after all," Gatty said softly. "Whatever Folken gave him must have worked."

"We should..." The door crashed open and a young Third String Slayer stood in the doorway with a black eye clutching his ribs, Sergio and Andre hoovered behind him. 

"Gatty! Shesta! There's a new wave of troops, just came in today...and they jumped me. I was by myself, and they just grabbed me... they were mad because my armor is so new, and I'm so young. They said I shouldn't have good stuff like this yet and..." The blubbering boy was speaking so quickly no one had time to quiet him before he woke Dilandau. It was obvious he hadn't seen him, the younger Slayers always tried so hard not to cry in front of the captain. 

All three Third Stringers gasped as their commander sat up staring at them all crossly. "L...Lord Dilandau!" they all dropped to one knee, and Dilandau rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Get up you idiots...." He got off the bed quickly and stalked toward the one trying to clean the tears from his face, who flinched thinking he was about to hit. Instead Dilandau took his face in his hands. His touch wasn't rough, but it wasn't tender either, he turned his head this way and that inspecting the damage done. 

"Did you get the name of the bastard that did this to you, Brian?" Dilandau growled letting go of the red haired boy's face. 

Brian shook his head, "I think it was Murphy..I don't know. I... I can tell you what he looks like."

"Take me to him," Dilandau's red eyes were hooded dangerously, he pushed Brian out into the hall ahead of him. 

Shesta looked at Gatty wide eyed... oh shit, both their expressions read. They both grabbed for their swords and ran to flank either side of their leader, he wasn't properly attired or in the right condition for dealing with riff-raff. Miguel joined them to cover the rear. Brian walked nervously and proudly at the same time. Nervous because his superiors, and senior officers were letting him lead them and he was afraid he'd do something stupid, and proud because.... he was leading his superiors and senior officers into battle...for his honor!

The burly new soldiers were congregated in the recreational hall. They sat amongst the older soldiers drinking beer, and laughing loudly, obscenely at something undoubtably vulgar. The older soldiers went quiet as death at the sight of Dilandau entering their territory. He only ventured to their area when he was going to hurt one of them, otherwise he never dirtied himself. Brian pointed out the man who abused him, and the other men who'd watched. 

The 9 new men looked up at the intruders, a few laughing at the sight of the boys, one being the one they'd been playing with early, and one white as milk. "Well ain't you a pretty little boy," one rumbled in a deep voice, looking Dilandau up and down. "Hmm..." Dilandau purred, parting two bodies of older soldiers who quaked in fear of him and leaned across the table to the man who'd complimented him. "What's your name soldier?"

"Martin," the man smiled revealing an even set of pearly white teeth. "Martin?" Dilandau turned his head slightly to glance at Brian who nodded. He then turned back, "That's a nice name."

"Yeah...you got one angel face? You're much too pretty to be a soldier... who do you belong to? You've got to be a paramour of one of the higher officers. Bet you belong to Lord Folken huh? I've seen those two beast girls he keeps, nice, but you're even nicer. What's he give you? I bet I can give you better. I'm a captain, about to be promoted soon, and I'm going to have my own floating fortress. You'd have your own rooms, bath attendants. Sit here Angel Face..." He wasn't an ugly man at all, his dark blond hair was probably lighter when washed, his hands were finely shaped with few calluses. His features were pleasant enough, not many lines, meaning he probably hadn't reached his 30th year yet. The lust on his face was apparent, and his eyes glowed in anticipation as Dilandau brushed a hand across his face, tracing the outline of his jawbone. "What's your name Angel?"

"Dilandau Albatou..."

Martin's face paled, Dilandau Albatou.... He grunted as he felt the sharpness of a blade nicking the sensitive skin of his throat just beneath his Adam's apple. "So I see you've heard of me."

The man gulped carefully, his men scooted away from him. "The soldiers you see behind me, in the black and blue uniforms, those are Dragonslayers. Only Dragonslayers are allowed in that armor, and when you see it, you go the other way. Why none of your little friends prepared you for this, I don't know. Maybe they don't like you very much, and wanted to see this." 

"See what?"

"This," Dilandau said softly, the man hadn't noticed he'd been slowly pushing back his chair, he punched him hard across the jaw where his hand had been, shattering the bone. Then winded him with a swift thrust of the other fist to the solar plexus. Martin toppled backward onto the floor, and was quickly pulled up to his feet on either side by Miguel and Gatty. Dilandau walked around the table with Shesta and Brian. Martin was held like a display in front of the boys, and Dilandau motioned for Brian to step forward, "Teach him why he shouldn't touch Dragonslayers."

Brian nodded, his palms were sweaty. Now was the time to really show Dilandau he could hold his own. He went for the eyes first, as the man had with him. He looked back to Dilandau for approval before he moved on to a new section of the body. 

"Lord Dilandau, he's had enough, he'll never do it again!" one of the soldiers in the room cried, making no move toward the enraged younger soldiers.

"Who spoke to me?" Dilandau whirled on the room, glaring at everyone. No one said another word, just sat still as Martin grunted and groaned in pain. Dilandau studied the man slumping in Miguel and Gatty's arms, his face wasn't quite so pleasant anymore, and he was missing a few of those pearly white teeth. 

"Very good Brian, I might think about promoting you to Second String."

"Thank you, Lord Dilandau."

"Lets go, study hours are not over...and Brian? You've got bathroom detail for 2 weeks, for walking around in the recreational corridors during study hours."

"Yes sir..." He watched sadly as Dilandau walked away with Shesta and Miguel close at his sides. Gatty stayed beside Brian, "You just can't win them all with Lord Dilandau, can you?"

"Nope. One minute you're being commended for a job well done, the next you're polishing armor for taking an unfortunate dive."

Brian frowned at him, looking confused.

"Never mind, if you didn't see it, then you don't need to know about it."  
  


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Van shadowed the Dragonslayers as they walked back to their rooms. After pressing the magic button a servant girl had appeared opening the door and looking for Folken. Van gagged the girl, and tied her to the bed, then made his escape. He'd wandered aimlessly down the halls ducking the sparse population of on-duty guards. It seemed the crew was having a bit of a holiday to celebrate catching him, so security was not as tight as it could be. He was playing a game with himself to choose which hall he should choose to explore next when he'd heard their voices. 

He'd recognize Dilandau's voice anywhere. He hid, and watched as the pale captain and his soldiers walked by him, eyes determined. He followed them at a safe distance... it was safe to say his best bet in finding his way to the hangars where the melefs were kept would be to stay near the Dragonslayers. He watched in disgust at Dilandau's display, at the way he'd flaunted his sexuality in the face of a man sated with lust for him. Then he'd watched as Dilandau broke the man's jaw, and stood back as a boy under his command proceeded to beat the crap out of the man who Van assumed was responsible for the black eye he was sporting. 

Dilandau was getting revenge for one of his soldiers, not getting off on some sadistic power trip? Had he misjudged the red-eyed demon? The guy laughed manically during bloodbaths, and set fire to everything while endlessly throwing taunts at people he hoped to run down. He had beaten Van until he fell, and was still going to keep at it, if he hadn't been called off...by his brother. 

He scowled as he realized he was being taken down the same corridor he had escaped from. The Dragonslayers' rooms were in the same vicinity as his brother's. He ducked in an air duct, as Dilandau and 3 other boys went back into one room, while the boy with the black eye went into another. The doors closed, and Van decided he would wait for someone else to come out. He'd jump that Slayer if he was alone, and have him take him to the hangar. 

Slayers left their rooms in packs it seemed, all laughing and chatting amiably. Van was getting very impatient. Sooner or later his brother was going to go back to his room, and find that servant girl gift wrapped, courtesy of Van, and sound the alarms. He was going to have to do something drastic and fast, his time was running out. 

The door Dilandau had disappeared through opened, and 6 people came out. They were shushing each other, and trying to tread softly. The door was closed gently, and from Van could see the room was empty. But Dilandau hadn't come out, what could that mean? 

He waited for the Slayers to leave before venturing out of his air duct, and tucking the grate back in place. He was being incredibly brave, and taking a large risk. There was a good chance Dilandau or someone had seen him, and they were lying in wait behind the door to clobber him. He had to see though, he wanted to know if this could be his chance. He turned the knob and pushed open the door to the room slowly, looking left and right, making sure no one was coming. The room was empty all except for the lone figure lying face down on one of the beds. From the rise and fall of his back, Van could tell the boy was asleep. He shut the door as quietly as he could and inched toward the bed. Dilandau.

He slept on his stomach with an arm tucked under his head, his face turned to the side. Van was struck at how young and innocent he looked in sleep. He resembled a virgin god he'd seen a statue of in his castle. His hair gleamed like polished silver, and spilled onto his arm, over into his eyes... Van almost didn't want to touch him, he looked so perfect. He didn't want to taint the picture. 

He could see why he was one cocky bastard. If Van looked like that he'd be cocky too. He'd sweep ladies off their feet like Allen, and he'd prowl around like a panther challenging anyone, like Dilandau. 

Allen? What had made him think to pair Allen, whom he hadn't thought about in a long time, and Dilandau together like that? Perhaps it was because he was jealous of them both for the same reason, their beauty. He unsheathed his sword laying a hand on his enemy's shoulder, rolling him over timidly. He winced at how fragile the bones felt underneath his hand. Sprawled on his back, the boy looked like a fallen deity, and Van felt positively blasphemous for what he was about to do. 

He brought his blade to Dilandau's throat hoovering mere centimeters above it. He was prepared for Dilandau to awake with a start, to try to fight him, before realizing he was at a deadly disadvantage, but strangely the boy hadn't stirred. Was something wrong with him? He was terribly pale, but Van was under the impression that he always looked like that...but what about the discoloration under the eyes? Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead, soiling the roots of his hair. Van couldn't help but touch the skin there, and be shocked by the heat that greeted his hand. 

This was what had beaten him? This was what had burned his homeland and smoked the great Allen Schezar out of his castle? This captured him? 

Life told many jokes, but this was the corniest of all! He was about to give the sickly boy beneath him a good shake to attempt to rouse him, when the door to the room opened. "Go on without me, I'll meet you there. I can't believe I forgot...hey!" 

The blond boy stared at him in shock, then in outrage at his position over his commander, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Get away from him!"

"I don't believe you are in any position to be giving me orders boy. Now you're going to be good, and show me where I can find my guymelef, or I'll slit your beloved leader's throat."  
  


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**Author's Note: Told you it was long, lol! Now I get to start on the next chapter, which is really supposed to be the rest of this chapter...but I don't anyone big on reading 30 paged chapters lol. Well, did you like it, hate it, don't care about it either way? Let me know! Please review, and take care!**

  
  



	9. Chapter 8

**Ok, ok, so here it is. I know I told some people Saturday, but uh...this chapter didn't want to end, lol. Thank you reviewing me, I do not know how to express just how much it means to me to hear from you. I hope you guys like this l-o-o-o-ong chapter. I tried to shorten it, I really did. It was actually going to be longer cause I wanted to bring in a certain character everyone has been asking about...but she'll have to wait for Chapter 9 ;).**

  
  
  
  


Chapter 8  
  


Allen had to admit he was getting a little bored in his sedentary position watching the girl work her magic. She had been sitting in the same position for hours leaning slightly forward over the map he'd given her, holding her pendant over it. The small stone swung back and forth lightly, but it was giving her no indication of where the boy king could be. Her honey flavored skin was beginning to trickle with light perspiration. Was she becoming feverish? He removed a silken handkerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed her forehead with it lightly, startling her from her trance. Good, maybe she would realize how stiff she had gotten and stop for a bit, he was ready to stretch his legs, but felt obligated to sit with the girl as she concentrated. "Do you want to rest for a while?"

Take the bait...take the bait....

"No, please let me keep trying," she said softly, she never raised her eyes from her dowsing project. 

Line snapped...he sighed.

"I just wish we had something of Van's here, it could help me get a hold of his essence and pinpoint his location."

"We do!" Allen's eyes shifted to Merle who'd been curled up watching Hitomi tirelessly from a wooden bench. She sat up and leaned across the small table holding out a cloth bandage, "Remember? Lord Van made this for me when I first came, and I was hurt. Can you use this?"

Hitomi gave Merle a wan smile, "Yes!" Merle placed her hand holding the dressing over Hitomi's.

"What else can we do?"

"Just try to picture him, in your mind." Allen wanted to roll his eyes, but he had to be supportive. He had after all condoned this, and Gaddes would tease him for weeks afterward when it turned out to be a flop. He was always accusing Allen of dispensing of some of his good sense when it came to women. It was rather insulting. He controlled his facial expression, and placed his hand over Merle's. He tried to clear his head and think of nothing but Van. The kid was annoying, but Allen was actually starting to like him, and he didn't wish rotting in a cell in Zaibach on anyone. 

Their arms were moving as the pendant swung like a magnet being attracted to a force. Allen knew he was not moving his own arm, and he honestly didn't think Hitomi or Merle would either. The magic was actually working. He didn't doubt the girl had a talent, she had after all figured out half of his life's story, and if she had gone on would have told him who he was to marry in the future, and if he lost his teeth in his old age before he died. He just wasn't as faithful in her dowsing experiment...

Their hands stopped as the pendant hoovered over a place on the map, swinging in a small circle, and Hitomi gasped, her eyes going round as if she was being struck by a vision. "That's the place where the wandering earth collects..." Allen stared at the map, and at the place the pendant was circling. 

"The wandering earth?" Hitomi asked as if that was the weirdest thing she'd ever heard in her life.

"Yes, levistones just like the ones this ship uses," he kept his hand over Hitomi's, the girl's skin was moist.

"That is the perfect place for that floating fortress to hide!" Gaddes had leapt up from the chair he was sitting in just behind Allen. Guess he wasn't asleep after all... Allen gazed over at Hitomi, to see how she was taking the information. She had been successful after all, she should be walking on air. She smiled slightly, her eyes a bit glassy, before she slumped backward in her chair in a boneless heap. "Hitomi!" Allen quickly put a supporting hand behind her head, and another about her waist.

"Is she ok?"

"I'm fine...just tired. So, what do we do next? Are we going to this place?"

"Yes we are," Allen answered her, "It's time to get Van."

"And some payback," Gaddes uttered, "nobody burns down our castle and gets away with it."  
  


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Shesta blinked at the dark haired boy, hiding a smirk. He was sizing the king up, but the monarch probably thought he was panicking at the thought of him killing his leader. Lord Dilandau's first lesson had been to keep your expressions unreadable, that way the enemy could never tell just what you might be planning or thinking about. His second lesson, pay attention to the small details, like the slight trembling in the boy's hand as he held the sword, and the way his eyes shifted quickly from Shesta to Dilandau every few seconds. The boy had never had to kill a person so directly before, in fact, he'd probably never killed anyone at all. He looked for an opening....

The boy king was a second too late in response, Shesta surged toward his wrist quick as lightning, catching the top of the pommel of the Fanelian blade knocking the sword upward toward ceiling. It was just enough to get the cutting edge away from Dilandau's neck, and surprise the king enough to make him lose his footing. Shesta tripped him easily and then put himself in front of Dilandau baring his teeth in an angry grimace, how dare he enter his room and threaten his Lord? Who did he think he was? "Slayers, we have an intruder!" he yelled, knowing Miguel and Dallet were probably still dawdling in the hallway waiting for him. Miguel, having no intention of joining Viole any sooner than he had to, and Dallet...well Dallet was the dependable sort that didn't like to know that any of his friends wandered the halls alone when there were new soldiers aboard the Vione that could take advantage of them. 

As predicted, Miguel and Dallet crashed in, swords ready. The boy king was already rolling away from Shesta and getting to his feet prepared to defend himself. Miguel charged at him furiously, his intent to kill. Shesta stayed near Dilandau watching Miguel and the king lock into a deadly tango of sharp edges and skill. Dallet sidestepped Miguel and the dark haired despot, and came to Shesta who still held his blade at attention, had the king any surprises to spring on them. "Is he alright?" Dallet barked at Shesta, looking at Lord Dilandau briefly but keeping his eyes on the fight.

"The sedative Folken gave him... He hasn't woken up at all. Get him out of here, now!" 

Dallet nodded, sheathing his sword and carefully pulling Dilandau's limp body over his shoulders in a fireman carry. "I've got your back," Shesta told him, and crab -stepped in front of him as he made for the door with his precious bundle. Once Dallet was out the door, Shesta went to help Miguel. The king was rather good, and Miguel was struggling a bit, and losing a little ground. 

"What the hell is going on?" Biore rushed into the room followed by Ryuuon. "Oh shit! Someone sound the alarm a prisoner has escaped!"

"Give us room!" Miguel grunted at the Second Stringers clogging the doorway, Shesta and Gatty's room was not very spacious, and the furniture that he kept having to kick over or vault was not helping. Shesta was doing all he could to stay out of the way and get behind the king, but the king was good at swinging out to the side and parrying Shesta anytime he came too close.

Loud bells erupted around their heads from the speaker system installed into each room on the Vione. "That wasn't necessary, the only thing extra help will be picking up is your corpse, your majesty!" Miguel lunged, eyes going wide as he was circumvented and tripped. 

"My corpse? You sure about that?" 

Shesta jumped onto Gatty's bed using the spring to give him extra height to execute a flying kick. He struck the king at an angle in his right shoulder blade, bringing him down to the floor with his weight. He straightened his body a bit using his armored elbow to turn the enemy's sword sideways so he could land on it with harming himself, and render it useless. He knew he looked ridiculous sitting flat on his behind on the floor, but pinned underneath him was the king's weapon. The time it took for them to hit the floor, was enough time for Miguel to back spring into a fighting stance. He surged forward stepping on the king's sword hand, making his fingers release the blade. Then he lowered his own sword to the monarch's throat, "Yes, your corpse...I'm sure about it."

  
  


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Folken nearly dropped the petri dish he held at the sound of the alarms. He checked the clock on the wall. The tranquilizer he gave Van shouldn't wear off for another 2 hours, but something told him he'd better go check on him.  
  


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"Lord Dilandau!" Dallet felt uncomfortable shaking his captain, but he had to make sure he hadn't lapsed into a state of unconsciousness. 

"Move Dallet," a tall girl with reddish brown hair moved him aside. She knelt beside Dilandau and pulled back one of his eyelids, nodding in satisfaction as the pupil retracted at the sudden exposure to light. She then tilted back his head, placing a hand on his forehead, then on his chin, and leaned in with her face near his mouth and nose to listen to his breathing, and watch his chest rise and fall. Keeping her hand on his forehead, she put two fingers to his Adam's apple, then slid them over to time his pulse to the minute. 

"What happened?" Gatty pushed past the Second and Third Stringers guarding the door to enter the room, Guimel and Viole followed. He gasped when he recognized Dilandau lying on Dallet's unmade bed in a rescue position with Refina hoovering over him. 

"The King of Fanelia escaped, and tried to kill Lord Dilandau in his sleep I presume. Shesta was the one there, and stopped him. He and Miguel were fighting him in the next room. They were making a lot of noise, and now they're not."

"Son of a bitch..." Viole uttered, "We were gone all of 5 minutes! How did he get out of a prison cell without any of the alarms sounding? What kind of guards did Folken hire?"

"Not very good ones...and I don't know how he got past all of the alarms down there. I have the system memorized and I still always manage to trip one of them," Guimel scratched his head. "We should see about the mess next door... Viole, you coming?"

Viole nodded distractedly watching Dallet, Refina, and Gatty crowding the bed trying to coax Dilandau awake. He followed after Guimel reluctantly.

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Van kept his head bowed as his hands were bound behind his back, and he was yanked roughly to his feet by the blond Slayer who'd ruined his plan. He'd thought for sure the baby-faced swordsman would drop to his knees begging him not to hurt his master. He'd lost control of the situation terribly, and the only reason why he still had his head, was because Baby-face had told the handsome brown haired avenger to back off. Avenger was not pleased, he snorted and kept his sword out ready to cut Van if he so much as made a funny face at him. Van was marched out of the room with Baby-face and Avenger on either side of him. Eight Dragonslayers stood in the corridor glaring at him darkly, and Van fought the impulse to gulp. They looked like they wanted to draw straws on who was going to get the honor of decapitating him. Two more Slayers entered the hallway and marched passed the ones lining the walls. They stopped in front of Van, Baby-face, and Avenger. Both wore very stony expressions on their perfect faces. The one who looked like a cherub, curly blond hair and all, spat on him. The one who resembled one of those dangerous spirits in the woods that attracted men then drowned them, punched him in the gut. He made a small noise as the air whooshed out of him. 

"What are we going to do with him?" Cherub asked.

"Kill him," Avenger said drolly.

"Toss him off the bridge!" Spirit pumped his fists.

"No, he might enjoy the fall," Avenger sneered.

"Kill him, now. We cut off his head," Cherub suggested. 

"Too neat, it has to hurt," Avenger argued.

"We take him to Folken," Baby-face interrupted their debate. "Lord Dilandau is incapacitated, so our next commanding official is Folken."

"Why do you always have to be so by the books about everything? He tried to..."

"I KNOW what he tried to do!" Baby-face fumed. "But he failed, and it's no good spoiling a mission over a failed attempt. There is nothing to seek revenge for. Emperor Dornkirk and Lord Folken need this asswipe for something."

Spirit chortled, anger momentarily dissipated, "You said 'asswipe.'"

"Shut up Viole!"

"Can we beat him up a little before we take him to Folken?"

"No," Baby-face rolled his eyes. "Viole, you and Guimel go down and head off any more soldiers coming to this wing. Tell them the problem has been taken care off."

"Actually when the soldiers looked and saw what area the alarm had been pulled from, they all went the other way."

"Incompetents, what if there had really been a problem," Avenger grumbled. "Though I'm sure they'd rejoice if something unfortunate were to happen to us."

"Forget it," Baby-face said, "Come on, Folken's probably in his..." he broke off as the Slayers further down the hall began to bow. Van's brother had arrived. 

******************************************************************************************************************************

"His pulse is a little slow, it's right at 60," Refina removed her fingers from Dilandau's neck, and cautiously rested a hand on his forehead. "He's hot."

"Yeah," Gatty nodded. "He was running a fever yesterday, after the battle. Folken had him in the infirmary."

"Why isn't he still there?"

"You know Lord Dilandau. Do you think he'd stay in there after he woke up?"

"No," Refina shook her head. The door opened and Dallet rushed back in holding a glass of water and a small face cloth, "Lord Folken's here, he's going to take the king away."

"Good."

Gatty took the glass and towel from Dallet and handed it to Refina who damped the cloth and began to swab Dilandau's face with it. He gave a light moan, and all three Slayers let out a collective sigh of relief. The muscles around his mouth twitched, and his eyelids began to flutter. "Lord Dilandau, can you hear me?" Refina asked, she wet the cloth again, and laid it over his forehead. 

The hazy red eyes opened a slit, then snapped closed in annoyance. The thin body rolled over onto its side, away from Gatty and Refina, toward Dallet. The wet towel slid off his forehead onto the bed. "Lord Dilandau?"

Dilandau pulled his knees to his chest and shifted around a bit for more comfort. 

"Well...he's not unconscious," Refina remarked, she smiled at how young he looked curled on his side like a small child. "We should let him sleep, seeing as he's not feeling well."

Gatty nodded, and Dallet pulled the top blanket off of Guimel's bed to cover Dilandau. "I'll sit in here with him," he volunteered.

Gatty nodded, "Refina too, since she knows first aid better than us and all. I'll go out and see what's going on, and keep you posted."

Gatty left the room and stepped into the clearing hallway. Slayers were going back to their rooms, brushing by him as he shut the door to the room behind him. Soon the only people left still standing in the hall were Guimel, Viole, Shesta, and Miguel, and each of their faces was a different variation of pissed. "Guys?"

"The alarms didn't go off when the king escaped his cell, because he wasn't in a cell, Gatty," Shesta hissed, his voice low and eyes narrowed. 

"What?" Gatty was confused.

"Folken's keeping King Van in his bedroom," Miguel clarified with an ugly sneer, "seems we've had royalty living in our midst for quite sometime."

"What are you talking about Miguel? What just happened?"

"We just found out King Van's Folken's little brother," Viole said. "That's why we couldn't kill him last night."

"I'm sure there's another reason too," Shesta said darkly. He glanced at Gatty, "How's Lord Dilandau?"

"Still sleeping."

"Folken shouldn't have given him anything that strong, especially if he was going have his damn brother on the loose."

"I'm sure he didn't think the king would get out," Gatty said looking on down the hallway towards the Strategos' room. "I bet he drugged him too. He should have given his brother whatever he gave Lord Dilandau."

"You don't think he drugged him on purpose, do you? You don't think the Strategos would want to leave Lord Dilandau exposed and defenseless like that?" Miguel still wanted to spill blood.

"No," both Gatty and Shesta shook their heads. "Folken would never do that. Like I said, he genuinely likes Lord Dilandau, he's not going to put him in danger on purpose. He told us to stay near him, meaning he knew Lord Dilandau would be in no condition to fight for himself... This...this was our fault. We left, and didn't think to have at least one of us stay behind. We were stupid, and careless, and we almost got our leader killed."

Miguel opened his mouth, then closed it. He had nothing to say to that. No one did. They all could scream until they turned blue about the Strategos having overdosed Dilandau and left him weak...but the fact stood that he'd told them of his plans, and had told them to stay near. They knew Dilandau was ill, and they knew he was vulnerable in his sleep. Even if the sleep hadn't been medicated, his reaction time to the boy king waking him up with his sword would have been slow enough to get him killed. Basically it all boiled down to...they never should have left him alone. It was their fault.

All their fault.

"Gods," Miguel groaned, putting a hand to his face to hide his shame.

"Yeah," Viole agreed.   


******************************************************************************************************************************

Folken had put Van back into another medicated sleep, and bound him to the bed this time, after freeing Ayah, that is. She'd given him the dirtiest of looks when he entered his bedroom gripping Van tightly with his metal hand by the shoulder. His jaw fell open a fraction as his mind filled him in on what had probably happened. His eyes flitted to the call button. Stupid him... he should have had Van put into a cell, it would have been much safer for everyone. It wasn't like he was getting through to him anyway. He made Van sit still while he'd untied Ayah, and told her to take the rest of the day off. She left without so much as a "thank you." 

He tied Van tightly and carefully, stretching his limbs across the bed to make it hard for him, if he woke up, to untie himself. He would find metal restraints to use later. After he'd pulled the bonds tight, he injected Van, this time in the arm, with another sedative. His brother didn't so much as speak, look, or flinch at him during the entire process. It stung a bit, but Folken had to remember, his brother still believed he'd abandoned his mother and him. Folken wanted to talk about that, he wanted to talk about a lot of things, but he just didn't feel Van would listen right then. He'd used the drugs the first time to try to calm his nerves. The effects were not quite what he'd expected. Van woke earlier than he should have, much earlier, and he was not as perceptive as Folken would have liked. He didn't want to believe his brother had gone after Dilandau like that. The boy had been utterly defenseless, and Van had tried to use that to his advantage. 

That couldn't be his Van. Balgus wouldn't teach him that.

The Dragonslayers were upset with him, as they had a right to be. He'd endangered their leader by having Van so close, and misjudging him so. After that night, Folken would have him placed in a cell, at least until he could start talking some sense into him. He sat down at his desk, removing his heavy cloak, and staring at the thin shape that represented his younger brother on his bed. This time he wasn't going to leave him unsupervised.   
  


******************************************************************************************************************************

"Well, well, well....I've found them!" Allen glanced over at the man looking through the periscope. "Floating Fortress spotted."

"Ok, heat the levistones, cut our levitation and charge the fortress!" he commanded. Finally some action, it had taken so long to find the fortress he was beginning to have doubts, and hear faint snickering in the back of his mind from Gaddes. 

He felt the ship give a subtle shudder, "Levitation down to 20."

"Good, furl the sails!" The slight rush of before-the-battle-excitement was tickling him, and beefed up his voice when he gave orders. He swung his arms as if giving demonstration on what to do, "And dive!" 

He felt his stomach plunge as the ship careened, then dove toward its acquired target. He was beyond ready for this encounter with Zaibach. They'd burned his castle, they'd killed and hurt his men, they'd taken Van... His fingers itched in anticipation and brushed against the hilt of his sheathed sword. He quickly gripped the steel bar in front of him to keep his balance as one of the wings rebounded against a free floating levistone. He held back a chuckle as Hitomi skirt blew up to her waist and she turned bright right and removed a hand form the pole she was clinging to pull down her garment and hold it. 

Here we come, Zaibach. If he met Dilandau again, this time they would finish their fight.

  
  


******************************************************************************************************************************

"We're under attack!" Folken blinked and looked down from his high podium above the soldiers tending to the navigation machinery. Under attack? By who, how had their location been compromised?

"They're right above us!"

"Sound the alarm," Folken instructed. He had to get back to Van. This attack was no doubt a rescue attempt. The boy had been sleeping peacefully when he'd left to attend to his duties in the main control room. The men there knew how to work the equipment but he always made sure to come in every few hours to make sure things were still running smoothly, and to fine tune the navigational instruments. 

"Strategos where are you going?"

"Back to my rooms."

"Sir, you can't just roam about the ship during an attack. You'll have to stay here until the coast is clear."

"I'll probably be safer where I'm going than here, gentlemen. You can escort me if you like, but I will not remain." He didn't stop his leisurely trek to the double doors, and passed through them without even looking back to see two soldiers stumbling after him.

  
  


******************************************************************************************************************************

"Anchor!" Allen cried as the ship skidded across the metal surface of the floating fortress, he'd seen an open entrance...a flight deck. 

The Crusade jerked to a halt, "Levitation restored sir!"

"Cut the tether!" Allen said, trying to get his emotions under control. He couldn't let himself get too excited about this, or he'd make rash decisions that could get himself and others hurt or killed, "and then raise the propellers."

The ship began to slowly maneuver itself into the rectangular entrance of the deck, and Allen watched the positioning through the large windows, and called over his shoulder, "Aft mooring anchors, fire!"

The anchors caught the floor of the deck, and the ship was pulled until it casually bumped against the edges. Perfect. "Ok, lets board them!"

"Yessir!"

"Charge!"

His men might have been more excited about this, than he was. He hid a smirk, then he and his men flooded off the Crusade into the gloom of the dark fortress.

"Boarders!" In sync with a single heartbeat, Zaibach soldiers were rushing at them from various sides swords drawn.

"Here they come!" Allen gave his men the heads up, knowing they had seen the soldiers coming just as he had. 

"Leave them to us sir! You go find Van!"

"Yeah!"

Allen grinned, "Alright." With that he took to a corridor not overrun with shrieking sword bearing troops. Now where would they keep the prisoners on a ship like this?  
  


******************************************************************************************************************************

Van started awake at the loud crash and disruptive shaking. What was...? He gazed around. He was back in his brother's room again! He tried to recall what had happened earlier. He'd escaped, he took a stupid gamble, lost, and now he'd been recaptured. He tried to move, discovering the uncomfortable tightness cutting off the circulation in his wrists and ankles were bonds. So Folken didn't trust him anymore? He was crushed.

Not really.

But now how was he going to get out? And what the hell was going on out there? What was that noise and the quaking? He struggled against the restraints, and grunted in pain. Damn. 

He lie back again, helpless. He wondered if Folken's maid would be coming back by anytime soon...  
  


******************************************************************************************************************************

He giggled as the tiny lamb licked his face. He stroked her soft fur, and returned the kiss on her wet nose. He sat outside his new Master's house in the grass taking his break. His little muscles were sore and aching from the day's excursions, and it felt good to sit. The sun was warm on his body, at the top of his head, he would probably be pink by the time he was allowed back inside. He lie down smiling as the lamb laid its head on his chest. 

The air was sweet with the fragrance of wild flowers, and the gentle breeze and the presence of the warm body on his chest was lulling him to sleep. He'd been up before the sun, and would undoubtably be going to bed only a few hours before he was to wake up. It seemed his Master could never run out of chores for him to do, or new exercises to test his endurance. He had plenty of new bruises and welts to show for his efforts. 

"What are you doing?" His eyes flew opened, and he leapt into a standing position. 

"I was... I was resting, I'm sorry! I thought I could, since you didn't require anything of me."

"Lazy bastard child, get up...and what..is that?" Master Marion was rather portly, but very strong and fit for a man of his physique. Dilandau frowned, the lamb had been startled when he'd jumped up so suddenly, but it was now back at his side licking his curled knuckles. He pet her head absently, and then tried to push her away, "It's a lamb, sir."

"I can see that, you idiot. Were you playing with it? Is it keeping you company?"

"No...it just came while I was lying down." Master Marion was a strange man when it came to attachments. Dilandau had heard he'd lost his wife and children in an epidemic. 

"What have I told you about becoming attached to silly things such as pets or people?"

"Not to," he hung his head, his silvery gray bangs brushing his chin. "But I swear I wasn't! It just came." He pushed at the stubborn lamb again, who was now rubbing its head on his leg. Go away, go away, or he'll beat me for sure!

Master Marion smiled crookedly, an ugly expression on his doughy face. "Alright, Dilandau, I believe you."

Dilandau almost wept with relief. He let out a cautious breath he didn't know he'd been holding. Master Marion turned and went back inside the house, "Go wash up for dinner."

Dinner? He was getting dinner? His magenta eyes lit up with delight. He was lucky if he ate twice a day, to eat dinner would be a treat! He trotted to the small water trough behind the house the little lamb following him closely. "You have to go away, Master Marion doesn't like you." 

The lamb blinked at him dumbly and rubbed against his leg again. He knelt before the trough and dipped his hands in the water kept keep in the shade of the house. He washed his face, and carefully dried himself on his white cotton shirt. He snickered as the lamb dipped his own face in the water and began to drink. "Master Marion definitely wouldn't like that."

The lamb looked at him, then licked his face. "You're not going to go away and leave me are you?"

The lamb stared.

"Ok, well then I should name you. How about Dove? I know you're not, but you're pretty like one." He patted his new pet's head. "I have to go inside now, and you'll have to go back to where you came from."

He moved toward the backdoor and Dove followed. 

"No, go! I'll play with you tomorrow."

He opened the backdoor and went inside, sighing as the lamb still stood dumbly on the doorstep. He would have to go back out later and see if he could lure it away from the cottage. 

Dinner was watery soup and hard bread that he ate with vigor. He was always so hungry in the evenings, and it was so rare to get nourishment he didn't want to miss a crumb of it. His Master glared at him as he ate, "You'll sweep the floors after this boy, and get to bed."

"Yes sir."

Dilandau crawled onto the small cot set aside for him feeling light, and...happy. That was the only way he could describe the emotion coursing through him...happy. He'd never experienced it before, but for once he wasn't sad, or scared, or hungry. His body pains were easily overlooked, and sleep came upon him quickly. 

He woke in the morning, feeling rested and wonderful. He blinked at the sunlight greeting him, he'd never awoken to sunlight before. Master had let him sleep in, why? He swung his legs over the side of his cot and got up, stretching. He would wash and begin his morning chores without being asked. Master was in an unusually good mood, and he didn't wish to spoil it by having the Master think he was lazy. 

He cleaned quickly but thoroughly, having not seen his Master he was anxious to get outside to his pet. He was bounding for the door, when Master Marion appeared through it, the man was smiling. "Dilandau, so you've decided to wake up."

"Yes, Master. I'm sorry for sleeping so long. I have done all of my morning chores, and I..."

"You would like to go outside?"

"Yes sir."

"Go on boy, I'll call you when I want you to come in."

"Th...thank you Master." Dilandau couldn't help but smile. He ventured outside into the sunshine. "Dove!" he called looking for his lamb. "Dove!" It really was a silly name to give to a lamb. He'd have to think of something more practical, and he'd have to build her a shelter. He would start on one today. "Dove!" He went as far as the pond before he came back near to the house, maybe he was still on the back step waiting...but surely Master Marion would have...NO! 

He broke into a run. 

On the Master Marion's chopping block... no.... His little legs slowed, and he fell to his knobby knees as he stared at the head of his lamb, looked into the dark unseeing eyes. The grass, his hands, and knees were stained with the blood. Master Marion came out then, that ugly smile on his face again. "Dilandau, I see you chose not to take advantage of your free time. Clean the carcass, and bring it to the smoke house. This will be our dinner tonight."

Dilandau obeyed with tears pooled in his eyes. He stood shakily and lifted the body of his lamb, his Dove. He wouldn't eat dinner, no matter how hungry he got... He wouldn't eat his lamb...he would never eat anything that once lived, breathed, and had feelings again. 

*It's going to be alright, Dilandau.*

It won't be. She's dead.

*You'll have other friends, maybe ones that can talk to you.*

No. I wasn't meant to have friends, I wasn't meant to have anybody. I can't become attached.

*Don't listen to him.*

He killed her.

*So you kill him.*

He didn't falter in his walk to the slaughter hut, but he agreed. That night while his Master slept, he'd slit his throat.   
  
******************************************************************************************************************************

Dilandau hit the floor with a muffled thud. Something living was beneath him, and had cushioned his fall. "Lord Dilandau?" Refina's voice called to him, over the sound of loud sirens. Sirens? He sat up, fighting off the thick folds of a blanket. It was too hot for blankets...and what the hell was he sitting on? "Hold still sir," Refina again. He fought to get his head free, he needed to see his surroundings. Something grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him until he tumbled forward onto a bed. He rolled out of the blanket and looked around, from the looks of things he was in Miguel and Viole's room with Refina. There was a grunt from the other side of the bed, and Dallet sat up rubbing his head, his hair hopelessly mused.

"Nice catch, Dallet," Refina chuckled. 

Dilandau sat up, gods he felt sluggish. "Sirens? What's going on? How did I get in here?" He lowered his head in his hands trying to organize his jumbled thoughts. His head was pounding, he could feel the throbbing beneath his fingers in his temples. 

"The Vione's been boarded, sir."

"Why am I in here?"

"Uh..."

"Somebody better start talking right now!"

"Lord Dilandau you fell asleep during study hours, and after they were over we took a snack break. The king is staying in Lord Folken's quarters, and he got out."

"Why would Folken keep Van in his room?" Dallet's voice was starting to echo, and the light was hurting his eyes. He decided to keep them closed for the rest of the story.

"Um...Van's his...his younger brother, sir."

Brother? Well, no wonder he was so adamant about Dilandau not killing the dragon. "And?"

"He came into Shesta and Gatty's room while we were gone, and you were sleeping. He had his sword over your neck, and we think he was going to use you as a hostage, and then either capture or kill you."

"WHAT?"

"Shesta came back, and he got him off you, and he and Miguel fought him and recaptured him. Then Lord Folken came and took the King away again."

"He did what? He..." Dilandau removed his hands from his face and moved one to his throat. Someone had dared touch him while he was unconscious....

He shuddered, suddenly cold. "Lord Dilandau, it's ok. He's gone now. Why don't you lie back down, Gatty has already sent out the other Slayers. Dallet, go get some more cold water, he's so hot." 

Someone was touching him again, he caught Refina's wrist as her hand rested on his cheek, "L..Lord Dilandau, please. You have to lie down."

Van had touched him while he was sleeping, Van was going to use him. 

It was getting so hot. He pushed Refina away as she tried to wipe the sweat building on his brow away with a dry towel. Van had touched him...Van was going to use him. He pushed himself up off the bed, staggering a bit, and catching hold of Refina as she rose too. "Lord Dilandau..."

"Get out there Slayer, there are boarders! What are you doing hiding in here?"

"L..."

"Get out of here, Refina!" Refina looked torn, she stared at Dilandau fearful and concerned. Should she obey her Lord like she was supposed to, or call Dallet back and together they could force him back onto the bed. He didn't look strong enough to take them both on. 

Dilandau growled, "You have 3 seconds..."

Refina swallowed what she felt was right, and let her sense of duty override maternal instincts. "Y..yes, Lord Dilandau." She left the room swiftly, taking Dallet's arm as she met him in the hallway, "Lord Dilandau wants us to join the fight."

"But he'll be left alone," Dallet protested fighting her hand and turning to go back.

"Dallet he gave me an order. I've never seen him like that. I don't know what he's going to do, but I think it best we stay out of his way."

Dallet glared at her, "Refina..."

"He's our commanding officer Dallet, and we have to do what he says. He could have us dismissed." 

Dallet sighed, what she said was true, and he couldn't let himself be dismissed. If he was sent home there would be one less qualified soldier to look after Lord Dilandau.  
  
  
****************************************************************************************************************************** 

Allen stopped to catch his breath after cutting down the last two men of the pack of Zaibach soldiers he'd run into. He heard more footsteps and chose another place to be, fast. He paced himself down another hallway, and skid to a halt. He was approaching a docking bay, and at the mouth of the tunnel was... "Escaflowne." He took a few steps toward it, when he heard running footsteps behind him.

"Hey you, draw!" a young voice shouted. Allen whirled to be involved in combat with a young blond haired boy. One of Dilandau's men... what did they call themselves? Dragonslayers. This was one of the ones that stood closest to him. He might know where to find Van, so Allen needed him conscious. 

The boy was highly skilled he could tell after blocking a few blows, but he was no wear near Allen's level of experience and expertise. He disarmed the lad easily knocking the sword from his grasp, sending the blade high into the air. Then he knocked the wind out of the boy with his elbow, catching him before he could crumble to his knees.

"Now you're going to take me to the prisoner you captured last night, or I'll kill you," Allen told the boy, bringing him against his chest, holding his sword to his throat. The boy didn't whimper or make a sound, his face was serene, though Allen could see the sweat forming on his upper lip and at his temples, and could smell his fear. "You don't want to die, do you?"

The boy swallowed, but did not answer. He pressed the blade against his throat, a thin trickle of blood kissed the blade and caressed its shiny facets. "You're not betraying anyone by leading me to the prisoner." He didn't want to kill one so young. The boy was a good soldier, and that saddened him. Children shouldn't have to fight. "Now will you take me to the prisoner?"

"Y...yes..."

Allen sighed, no young blood on his hands today. He released his tight hold on the boy's throat, and held him with his arms bound tight behind his back. "Which way."

"Keep straight, we take the next hallway."

  
  


****************************************************************************************************************************** 

Van wanted to sit up as the door opened, "Is that you Folken?"

"No, but if you'd rather it was him, I'll go home and you can wait until he shows up," a very familiar voice said.

"Allen!" Van tried to sit up to greet the tall blond man. He never thought he'd be so happy to hear a voice. He heard the soft "umph" of someone being hit, and a muffled thud of a body hitting the floor. Soon Allen was towering over him, "Hold still.." He used his slightly soiled sword to cut the restraints. 

"We have to get out of this hallway! Dilandau and all of his little followers live here, and they are pissed at me..." Van stared at the soldier on the floor. It was the blond who'd outwitted him, "You got him down?"

"It wasn't hard. You had problems with him, Van?" Allen looked at the slight bruising on Van's face. 

"Oh yeah," Van glared down at the boy, wanting to give him a good kick.

"Van, he's out. Leave him be. Didn't Balgus teach you never to go after someone after they've fallen. He is not an immediate danger."

"Like he and friends aren't going to come after us."

"Van, he can't be much older than you are."

"So? That doesn't mean he wouldn't kill me if he was told he could," Van sneered. But then, this had been the one to stop the other Dragonslayers from ripping him to shreds. 

"Come on Van, lets get out of here." Allen pulled his arms and together they fled. Van was unarmed and Allen had to do the fighting, the soldiers had significantly thinned. He didn't even have to stop his run at times, slashing at angles taking down two men at a time. They came to the first hallway the blond boy had brought him down, another small band of soldiers was coming at them, "Van, Escaflowne is down that way. You go on to the hangar, and I'll take care of business here."

"Ok," Van nodded, he ran off, and Allen stood ready to fight.  
  
  
******************************************************************************************************************************

The armor was uncomfortable, heavy and lose in the wrong places, but the sword felt so right in his hands. No one touched him without his permission, no one used him. He walked passed his full length mirror, pausing to look at himself. Skin paler than a ghost's, dipped in midnight black and spattered with blood; he looked Death. 

Van's Death. 

He shakily made his way from his room, amiss the loud sirens, feeling his steps become bolder as his heart thudded the techno beat to his mantra kill Van...kill Van...kill Van!  
  
  
******************************************************************************************************************************

Van skidded into the hangar, he could see the Escaflowne near the back. He took a few steps towards it, when he heard heavy footfalls from above, "Van!" He looked up to see the dark shadow of his brother at the railing of the walkway over his head looking down at him.

"Brother!" Van shouted up at him. "What the hell do you want?" Folken stared, saying nothing, and Van shuddered with rage. Before he could holler anything else Folken extended an arm over the railing in his hand he held Van's sword. Van watched soundlessly as his brother let go, and the sword fell down towards him. He caught it, and stared back at his brother questioningly. He didn't know what the hell Zaibach had done to Folken...but they would pay. The shadow of his brother was gone before he could call for him to come back, and he was left alone. Escaflowne... he started to go to it again.

  
  


******************************************************************************************************************************

The edges of his field of vision were painted red, he had to force himself not to use his peripheral vision, it made him dizzy. The Vione was a large ship, he hadn't really thought about it until then. The hallways seemed longer and more narrow as his lungs labored and his temperature rose. He felt so heavy....but the drums....

Kill Van...Kill Van....Kill Van....

He covered his ears as if the sound was coming from external source. Where were his Slayers....why had he sent them away? 

KILL VAN...

The drums were louder still, and he'd reached the end of the hallway.

KILL VAN!!

He looked forward and there bathed in the red haze that was his sight...was Van Fanel, looking up as if questioning the gods.

Well it was time for him to get his answers from them if that's what he was seeking, and Dilandau would help him.

KILL!! 

He charged forward bringing his sword high over his head, the idiot wouldn't sense him until it was too late and his head rolled on the steel floor. He fought the urge to giggle as his heart leapt into his throat dancing wildly at the pure rush of energy flooding through his veins. 

"VAN BEHIND YOU!" His tunnel vision wouldn't allow him to be distracted by the frenzied voice of a girl, but his previously ignorant prey had turned into his advance and used his sheathed sword to block his killing strike. 

"I should have killed you when I had the chance!" Dilandau raged. Kill Van...Kill Van...Kill Van! 

"You're gonna die!" He touched me...he tried to use me....

He attacked mercilessly not letting the young King get the upper hand, he swung and slashed. He knew he was putting too much power into his movements, it made his attacks easier to predict and counter. If he could only move faster, and get through Van's defenses one thrust was all it would take. "I HATE YOU!" A burst of adrenaline quickened his feet, allowing him more cat-like grace to dance around Van as their blades played a deadly game. 

Kill Van...Kill Van...

His feet moved to the beat, sweat stung his eyes, his breathing and heart beat escalated dangerously. Kill Van.... the mantra, the drums, his own breath. He was going combust, and he would take Van with him. The whole world was turning red, Van's features were beginning to merge.... 

Kill Van!

Yes... then can I sleep?

There was no voice to answer him, only the sound of his gasps, and those damn drums. Van was playing those drums, it was Van's fault his head hurt, and it was hard to breathe...it was his fault everything was getting so blurry. 

Kill Van...

  
  


****************************************************************************************************************************** 

Van turned at Hitomi's shout of warning, when had she gotten there? He didn't have time to draw his sword, Dilandau was coming at him too fast, his sword swinging down upon him viciously. He brought his sword still encased up in a two handed block. The pale captain retraced his blade, giving Van enough time to draw, and start defending himself. Dilandau fought furiously his eyes frosted and glistening with fever. Van truly didn't have the heart to fight him. He remembered what Allen had said....about how Balgus would never teach him to still pursue an enemy after he was defeated. He stared at the delirious creature after his blood, and remembered the sleeping god he'd tainted with his blade. Through more perceptive eyes he could see the unusual amount of sweat giving an unearthly sheen to the boy's ashen skin, the slight tremor of the sword as his hands shook, and he could hear the loudness of his breathing. The fight wouldn't last much longer, the boy would collapse...but Van had to make sure he didn't get killed before that happened. Fury could make a person ten times stronger than they actually were. He needed to disarm the boy, cut his arm, his shoulder, that would stop the fight....unless he was ambidextrous. Then Van would have a problem.

He parried and whirled about bringing his sword up in a desperate move to stop Dilandau's sword from entering his chest cavity. He stepped back as he heard the faint tear of skin, and silvery hair floated down to kiss his feet following droplets of blood. He could hear the chocking gasps of the white soldier, and he looked up to see the damage he'd done.

His face, his sword had met with the side of the perfect living statue's face. A fine line was torn from the beginning of his cheekbone to the curve of his lower lip, and blood wept from the wound. Van jumped at the sound of metal clattering to the floor...Dilandau had dropped his sword, both hands going to the wound, pressing at the torn skin...his eyes were wide and vacant as he continued to pant. Van backed away as he sank to his knees, "Van..." Hitomi was calling to him.

"I'm sorry," Van whispered to the boy, he didn't know if he had heard him or not, but he was, "Sorry..." He turned to Hitomi. "Escaflowne's back here, come on!"  
  


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The dragon had escaped kept skipping around his mind like children playing in a schoolyard. After all that hard work, one ship with maybe 7 or 8 men on it were able to board the Vione and snatch back their trophy. Gatty was in low spirits, "Where is Shesta?" he asked Miguel who shrugged.

"Haven't seen him since we parted ways during the fight."

There was a sharp pang in his stomach, "Is anyone looking for him?"

"Yeah, Guimel and Dallet are..." 

"Dallet? I thought he was guarding Lord Dilandau?"

"Uh..." 

"What?" Gatty pulled a hand from his face. He didn't think he liked being in charge. Lord Dilandau could keep his job, and he deserved a raise. 

"Lord Dilandau ordered Dallet and Refina into the fight. Tristan checked his room and his armor and sword are gone."

"Shit!" Gatty stopped his steps toward the Dragonslayer corridor. "Where is he?"

"Dallet and Guimel are looking for Shesta, Viole is with the Strategos, and everyone else is looking for him."

"Why wasn't I informed?"

"With all do respect Gatty, you look stressed. No one wanted to bother you," Miguel patted his shoulder. "You did a really great job out there, getting everyone together."

"Thanks, Miguel," Gatty sighed, and gave a small smile to the brunette. It was rare to win a compliment from Miguel Lavalier, so one usually took them to heart. 

"Well?"

Gatty raised a brow, "Have all the hangars been covered? The king would have gone toward his guymelef, and Lord Dilandau would have wanted to head him off."

"I don't know, we can go see for ourselves."

  
  


The hangars were all pretty void of human occupancy, and Miguel was ready to turn back, "It looks like they've already been combed out Gatty. Maybe he's showed up by now, probably with Folken."

"No," Gatty said carefully, his eyes narrowing. "We haven't even looked around."

"Gatty. There's no one here. We would have heard something by now..."

"Shhh....be quiet for a moment, and you might."

The cold wind howled and whistled through damaged parts of the hangar door, and buried within that cacophony was the soft sound of human whispering. "You see.... who's there?" Gatty called.

Miguel walked in front, keen eyes scanning the room. It was so dim, he had to squint to make out figures. He halted suddenly, and Gatty slammed into him. Instead of cursing Gatty, as the blond was steeling himself for, he went down on his knees. Gatty blinked at his actions, then looked to what Miguel was concentrating on, "My gods..." He crept forward fully erect, while Miguel crawled to the form of their leader on his knees with his head bowed. Congealing blood dotted the floor along with small tufts of platinum hair. 

"Lord Dilandau?" Miguel touched his back, and the whispering stopped.

Gatty stopped on the other side of him, and knelt down too, "Are you ok?"

Slowly the silvery head rose, dull red eyes greeted them, and they both gasped at the blood smeared across the length of the left side of his face, the blood on his lips, on the end of his nose, on his hands, in his hair.... "Look, look what he did to me."

"Gods..." Gatty reached forward to touch where the blood seemed to have come from, and Dilandau jerked away left hand cradling his left cheek. "We've got to get you to the infirmary. You might need stitches."

"Stitches leave scars."

"Not all the time," Miguel said softly. 

"It will leave a scar because the wound was made by his poison blade."

Gatty and Miguel gazed at each other over Dilandau's head. "Lord Dilandau, you're feverish. Lets us help you up."

"I've been cursed by Van Fanel, and the only way to break it, is for me to kill him."

"Get his other arm Miguel, I'll get this one," Gatty instructed, heart in his throat at Dilandau's wispy voice laced with insanity and delirium. Together they hefted Dilandau to his feet, and supported him between them when his knees went weak. "We should take him to bed, then call for a medic to come to him personally. No one else should see him like this."

"I agree," Miguel nodded. They struggled with Dilandau's boneless form, pretending to be doting on his every word as he whispered his delusional plots to kill King Van Fanel.

"You'll help me, won't you? You all will help me?"

"Anything you want us to do, Lord Dilandau, even if it means certain death, " Gatty assured him

"Lets just hope it won't come to that," Miguel snorted, blowing an unruly lock of hair from his eyes. 

******************************************************************************************************************************

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note: All done...well what did you think? Too long? Not enough? I love to hear from you :) Take care, and please review!**

  
  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 9

*~*Author's Note: Hey, yes I'm alive, yes I'm going to finish this story lol. Sorry the update took so long. I had been updating so frequently some people got worried when this one took over a month. I just got a little sidetracked, too much school work, too many writing projects, not enough hours in the day lol. I hope this chapter makes up for it though. It doesn't cover all of what I was planning to cover because it just would have been too stinkin' long. I got about half the topic covered when I realized I was at page 22! So I decided to break the chapter into two halves lol. I hope you enjoy this one, and I promise it will not take another month for me to post chapter 10. Also, I have a new webpage up for my anime, so I'd be happy if you'd check it out. All of my stories aren't quite up yet, but if you get as frustrated with ff.net as I do, it will be a more reliable place to read updates. Just click on my profile and you can get the link. Ok before we get into the chapter I'd like to thank, in no particular order, lol: Nikku, Asuka Kureru, Etowato,Dilandau2, FeyeMorgan, Ryu No Albatou, Rita, Darth Vicious, Melissa, Macky, Atari, Sand3, Masika2, and Missa. Ok, I think I got everybody lol! All right , I warn you this chapter is even longer than this ridiculously long Author's Note :) Enjoy!*~* 

Chapter 9 

_He sat on his knees, back straight, and hands holding the top of his ears in front of the statue of the warrior goddess in the open roofed temple. A light rain had doused his thin linens, causing the clothing to cling to his slender frame. It was so cold out he could see his breathe, but he was not allowed to shiver, or to let his teeth chatter. _

_In a warm cloak nibbling on a warm slice of bread, and drinking hot coffee, Instructor Dalton stared down at him imposingly. _

_He'd spared the life of a servant when he'd caught them stealing from the kitchens. She was just a little girl, so skinny with eyes so large. All she took was a bit of bread and cheese, why should he kill her for that?_

_*Because she shouldn't steal from the Master.*_

_She helped to make it, it wasn't really stealing._

_*This is why we're out here, Dilandau.*_

_I know I didn't follow the rules, but..._

_*It isn't about rules, it's about you being too soft.*_

_She couldn't have been more than 7, she was hungry. Remember being hungry?_

_*He's trying to make us strong.*_

_I am strong! I can beat men twice my size, with and without a sword! _

_*But you still care too much.*_

_But you told me I should..._

_*Only for those who care for you back. When we get our army, those men will be the ones we care for. Not undeserving peasants. They are only good for bringing our food, and cleaning up after us.*_

_But..._

_*Just how long would you like for us to stay out here, Dilandau? We're freezing. Tell the man you'll kill the girl, so we can eat, go to bed and be warm.*_

_I don't want to kill her._

_*It doesn't matter if you do not wish to kill her, all that matters is that you will. Would you rather die, for her? For someone who won't even remember you in a month or more?*_

_No._

_*Then tell him you'll kill the girl.*_

_Every time I kill, I lose some of myself..._

_*Every time you kill it brings you closer to me. You do like talking to me, don't you?*_

_Yes... He winced as he was struck hard across the back with a leather strap. He'd let his teeth chatter._

_*Well think about it this way if it helps, anything that brings you closer to me, cannot be a bad thing then.*_

_No... he agreed, his back stung where Instructor Dalton had hit him numerous times in the same place. He bet the flesh was torn. If he killed the girl he'd get food, he'd get a blanket, someone would rub salve in his wounds, and most importantly he'd get to talk more to his friend. Her voice was clearer and came more often now; he'd been so lonely. _

_He could see no drawbacks other than the death of a child, that would have died eventually of starvation or some peasants' disease on her own anyway. He was simply ending her suffering early. _

_*That's it Dilandau. Now tell him you'll do it.*_

_"Sensei?"_

_Cold eyes focused intently on his face._

_"I'll kill her right away, please let me up."_

_"Very well, Dilandau, you may rise."_

_He stood slowly, fighting back grimaces of pain as his leg muscles howled from being kept in a kneeling position for too long. "The girl is waiting for you in your quarters. Do not get blood on the rugs."_

_"Yes sir."_

__His eyes opened slowly, fighting away the heaviness of sleep film crusting them shut. His head felt as if it was stuffed full of cotton, and his first instinct was to sit up. His head raised pathetically in the weak first attempt. He fell limp against the softness of the bed. He felt like an over-boiled noodle, flimsy and frail, as slowly the rest of his body began to give his brain status reports on their states of being. There was an odd sting in his left arm, and he mustered all the energy he could to turn his head in that direction. A needle was firmly taped into place there, a tube leading from it to a bag of light-colored fluid. Was he in the infirmary again? 

He looked beyond the IV to notice his dresser, and his mirror, his familiar walls, and personal objects... No, he was in his bedroom. Had Folken brought him here, and hooked up the IV? He was so confused. He parted his dry lips slightly to wet them with his tongue, and felt the odd itch of having a foreign body on his face, his left cheek bone. He brought slim fingers to probe the area, disgusted by how exhausted he was after getting the arm to comply and move. Rough edges of tape, and the softness of gauze met his sensitive fingertips. He pressed on the area, eyes tearing slightly at the pain it brought, and ran a finger down the length of the bandage. What had...? 

He shut his eyes as his mind finally cleared, and he remembered the events of the day after he'd caught the dragon. Van Fanel had tried to take him hostage, Van Fanel had damaged him... 

He pressed down on the wound again, flinching at its sting, the poison still burned. He would kill Van, and run his hot blood over the wound he'd inflicted, then it would heal, the poison would be purged from his system. 

He forced his muscles to steel themselves as he tried to sit up. His surroundings grayed for a moment, did a jazz step, then stilled. He trembled with fatigue as he pulled himself out of bed. His bare legs seemed to go into shock at the rush of cold air that greeted them when he pushed back his blanket. He locked his knees and made his legs support him as he stood teetering. He gripped the pole of the bedframe for balance until he could readjust himself to his new orientation. How long had he been lying down? 

He felt cold and nauseated, and...he frowned when he realized something was keeping him from moving too far from bed. The IV... he cautiously removed it from his arm, letting the needle fall idle onto his comforter. His pale arm was blue and bruised where the needle had been inserted. 

At a very leisurely pace, he stumbled to the bathroom. He needed to wash, his body and hair were equally spoiled from night sweats. Turning on the bathroom light, he avoided the mirror at all cost. He didn't want to see his face...it was ruined. He stepped into the shower, twisted the knobs, and let the hot water try to soothe him. It only served to make him more nauseated than before. He soaped up, and scrubbed down fairly quickly, vacating the shower in record time. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he went to the sink to brush his teeth, and carefully wash his face. 

He navigated his face towel around the dressing, not wanting to get it wet. He couldn't help but dampen the edges though, since he refused to look up and see what he was doing. After cleaning his face, he left the bathroom to get dressed. 

"Lord Dilandau, you shouldn't be up." 

Dilandau nearly jumped, and he knew his eyes were twice their usual size, at the sight of Shesta standing by his bed. "Shesta... how long have I been...asleep?" 

"Two days sir," Shesta supplied. "You were very ill, and you still need rest. Your fever just broke last night, and the medic that attended to you said you should stay in bed and relax today." 

Two days? He'd been laying still doing nothing for two full days, he grimaced. Shit. Damn. Who knew about this besides his Slayers and the medic. The medic? 

Dilandau narrowed his eyes at Shesta, "A medic, no Folken?" 

Shesta seemed to stiffen at the mention of Folken, his eyes went cool, "No, Lord Folken has not been allowed access to your room. We didn't know if you would want him here." 

"You've been keeping Folken out?" Dilandau couldn't hide his amusement. Folken may have been a joke to Dilandau as a superior, but he did have some authority over his Dragonslayers, though Dilandau himself had final say. His Slayers had gone against military protocol...for him. 

"Yes sir." 

He chuckled lightly, then gazed at Shesta curiously, "Have you been training, or did you all take a break in my...absence?" 

"We have been performing our daily routines as usual. Though two Slayers have been posted at your door at all times, we've been trading off duties." 

Dilandau nodded, so they weren't behind in training. He moved to his closet to find something to wear. The chill on his skin made him look toward the warmer end of his closet. He clothed himself in loose brown leather pants and a deep red long sleeved silk shirt. He ignored his armor again, he knew it was still too heavy , and he did not want Shesta to see him fall on his ass. He strapped his sword to his waist and slipped into his soft back boots. 

"Lord Dilandau please..." 

"Two days in bed is enough, Shesta," Dilandau said shortly. Two days of inactivity, he prayed the Madoushi hadn't heard about it. He shuddered and rubbed his arms against the sudden chill. "I'm sure there's something I needed to have done two days ago, and now I'm behind." 

"Lord Dilandau, Viole and I went over the maps and marked places off already. Gatty and Dallet have been over all the status reports, Miguel's read over the paperwork on Basram, and Guimel's on top of the Astorian policies. There's nothing for you to do anymore, but rest and recover completely. You still look tired." 

Dilandau stared at the blond fussing about him incredulously, not only was he trying to tell him there was nothing for him to do, but, "Shesta are you trying to give me orders?" 

"Uh..." the blond finally faltered, and Dilandau fought the impulse to laugh. "I'm not staying in here all day, Shesta; I can't. If I promise not to do anything too taxing may I have your permission to leave?" 

Shesta blinked, not quite sure on how to proceed, "Um...Lord Dilandau, how are you feeling?" 

"Better." 

"Your face, are the local anesthetics wearing off at all?" 

"Local anesthetics?" Dilandau's stomach did a back flip, and his earlier good humor at his Slayers' affections faded. 

"The cut, sir, it needed 3 stitches. The doctors gave you a shot to numb the area." 

"Stitches?" More foreign bodies penetrating his skin, seeping into his pores... polluting him. He shuddered, and put his hand to the side of his face again, rubbing furiously. 

"Don't do that sir, you'll pull the stitches. The medics said scarring will be minimal. It'll just be a tiny hairline on the far side of your face. It won't even be noticeable. You don't have to worry about your appearance; no one will see it." 

"I'll know it's there...." Dilandau was muttering, "I'll feel it...I'll always feel it burning and throbbing...." His mind was starting to spin, his heart rate was escalating.... the drums were pounding again...Kill Van. 

"Anyone doing any follow up work on the missing dragon?" 

"Yes sir." 

"Do we know where it is?" 

"Not yet sir." 

"Then obviously there IS something that I should have been, and need to be doing now," Dilandau said icily, shoving Shesta out of his way when he tried to get in front of him. He threw open the door to the room, sending searing glares at Guimel and Dallet who stared at him with agape mouths ready to protest to his leaving. 

He stormed to Folken's doors not caring that he could hear the footsteps of his Slayers shadowing him. It was time to get back to business. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Folken was in the middle of preparing a small suitcase for himself to take into the capitol of Astoria when his bedroom doors crashed open. He wasn't surprised; he'd been expecting Dilandau for quite some time. 

"Give me every snippet of information you have on the last sighting of the dragon, Folken. I want any and all leads on its whereabouts, and I want them yesterday!" 

Folken turned slowly to greet his young visitor. The boy was once again without armor, and he stood looking white-washed on tottery legs trying to look threatening. 

"For Gods-sake Dilandau, sit down, before you fall down. Did no one tell you what the medics instructed of you for today?" 

Dilandau glared in response. Of course someone had told him the doctors wanted him in bed; that was why he was here! He looked at Dilandau sternly refusing to say or do anything else until the boy took a seat. 

"I've set aside some paperwork for you, Dilandau," it was all nonsense, but it would keep Dilandau sedentary and quiet for a few days, or at least until he returned from Astoria. "I'll give it to you before I leave." 

"Where are you going, and why am I not invited?" 

Folken went back to packing his suitcase. "I'm going to the capitol of Astoria to speak with the King and try to smooth over your attack on Schezar's castle before Schezar himself gets there. You are not invited because this is not a job for you." 

"If Schezar is going to the capitol that means Van is going to the capitol too. I go where the dragon does..." 

"Not this time you don't. We still are not sure if Schezar and the dragon are still together, and nobody needs you tearing up half a kingdom on a wild goose chase. I'm going down to get as much information as I can, and if I happen to learn of the dragon's whereabouts, then I will report them to the Vione. Then and only then will you be allowed to leave." 

"What?" Dilandau's voice was low with rage. 

"You, and your Dragonslayers are not to leave the Vione until I give the word. Is that clear? I've already given the order to your men...though they are most unpleased with me right now, and may not take anything I have to say as seriously as they should." 

"They have a right to be angry at you, you asshole. How could you keep Van in here instead of in the holding cells? None of this would have happened if you'd have followed protocol!" Dilandau fingered the bandage on his cheek, and Folken frowned at it. The white gauze was beginning to redden as Dilandau's fingers aggravated the wound beneath it and caused it to bleed. 

"Dilandau stop that!" Folken snapped. "Leave the wound alone, you'll make it worse. I've been told by the medics that it will heal nicely." 

Dilandau growled something unintelligible under his breath and gave the bandage one last caress before letting his hands fall back into his lap. "I'm going to kill your brother you know," he said as an afterthought, and Folken sighed deeply. 

Dilandau was a child that had been hurt, and wore that hurt as a brand of humiliation where everyone would always be able to see it. The only way children knew how to ease a hurt was to hurt back. It was their first instinct. 

"Dilandau, are you aware that Van could have easily killed you in the condition you were in. He chose not to. He wounded you to stop your assault on him without having to kill you. He certainly couldn't have meant to mar your..." 

"Oh he meant it," Dilandau snarled savagely. "He meant it... He wanted to taint me, mark me forever so that everyone will know his territory. 'I beat Dilandau Albatou' is what he's telling people. 'He wasn't strong enough, he wasn't skilled enough, he wasn't fast enough.... just not good enough...' Gods Folken, I'm perfect! How could he beat me like that?" 

Folken stopped packing to stare at the pale boy rocking himself back and forth scratching at the bandage on his face and tugging at his silvery hair. His eyes were slowly losing focus and becoming distant as his body began to shake. He spoke in a panicked voice that soared and cracked, "N...now no one will ever respect or fear me again, how can they? They can look at my face and see my defeat. The...the Madoushi will come get me again... they'll be so angry... Oh gods, oh gods, they're going to come get me. Gods, gods..." 

"Dilandau...Dilandau!" Folken knelt before the boy and took hold of his shoulders shaking him to get his attention. "No one's coming to do anything to you. The Madoushi have not been told anything about this, but if you continue to behave in this manner someone will eventually report you. You have to calm down. Calm down Dilandau." 

Folken almost sighed in relief when the boy's eyes slowly lost their dazed look of horror. He removed the boys hand from his face, and the other from his hair. Silver strands of hairs floated from his shaky fingers, and he hiccuped slightly. His body slumped forward into Folken's larger frame, and Folken closed his arms lightly around Dilandau. His heart was racing; Folken could feel the pounding of the fist-sized muscle against his own chest, and he felt alarmingly warm. 

"Gods Folken it hurts..." Dilandau choked. "I can't do anything anymore without pain. When I fight it hurts....when I get upset it hurts." 

"The separation has caused an imbalance in your system Dilandau, and your body cannot metabolize certain enzymes, and when you become agitated, angered, or excited your neurons send out an excess of neurotransmitters that flood your system and then are blocked on the re-uptake so the effects which should be temporary are long lasting and bring you harm." 

"So you're saying my body overreacts and overcompensates for everything, and then can't turn itself off?" Dilandau pulled away from Folken, then hiccuped loudly covering his mouth looking slightly embarrassed and very nauseous. 

"That's a good summary," Folken said looking for a waste basket. The last thing he needed was for Dilandau to spew on him or in his suitcase. He had just had his cloaks washed. He moved the medium sized waste basket beside his door close to the chair Dilandau slouched in. 

Dilandau gazed at it with disinterest, and removed his hand from his mouth. "There's nothing in my stomach for me to ruin your fine apparel with, Folken, relax." Then he snorted, "Not that I could make your cloaks look any worse. Gods, when we were these tailored?" 

Folken watched in amusement as Dilandau pulled out one of his robes and shook it out. "I think this is what you wore when we first met. It looked shabby then." 

"Dilandau, my robes are fine. There are no threadbare places in them, and no stains." 

"But they're faded! They make you look so boring," Dilandau dropped the cloak back into the suitcase not bothering to fold it back. 

"And what colors do you suggest I wear?" 

Dilandau grinned wickedly, a trace of his former self leaking back into his countenance, "Crimson, or royal purple, how about some jewel tones?" 

"And how will this make me look to my subordinates dressing like some sort of prince?" 

Dilandau shrugged, "Who cares about them, so long as you look good. You never see me worrying about what color will impress my Slayers when I pick out something to wear." 

"Of course not," Folken bit back a chuckle. The boy could be so unconsciously shallow it was humorous. "So you will obey my orders and stay here unless I say otherwise?" 

Dilandau's eyes hardened a bit and he sat up straighter. "Fine," he agreed softly, "but only because I feel like a rotting corpse, remember that. When I'm better I'm cutting your brother to pieces, small ones. Have a pleasant trip Folken; hope you enjoy your stay in Ass-toria. If you see Schezar tell him I said, 'hello."' 

The boy got to his feet slowly and showed himself out. Folken watched him as he left, shaking his head. He hadn't liked the tone of Dilandau's voice or the look in his eyes. For the sake of his brother and for the sake of Dilandau, he prayed that Van was not in Astoria. Dilandau needed more time to simmer and cool before being confronted with Van again. 

Or they would both be hurt, maybe killed. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

The talk with Folken hadn't gone like he'd planned. He had expected to leave with an assignment, not nonproductive busy work. He thought he was going to get coordinates disclosing the dragon's location. He hadn't expected to be dismissed, after agreeing to obey Folken's order to not leave the Vione. An odd panic was starting to set into his mind, he didn't like being inactive, it made him jittery. He had to be useful; he was _made_ to be useful. He'd been useless for two days... 

Can't leave the Vione... Can't go after the dragon... Shesta, Gatty, and the rest of my Elite have done all of my paperwork that matters. Gatty's surveying practices. Two days, I've been asleep for two days... 

His thoughts were going too fast for him to make sense of them. He ambled past Shesta, Guimel, and Dallet who stood just outside Folken's door pretending they hadn't been eavesdropping. 

I have nothing to do... I'm not being productive. 

It was unacceptable, completely unacceptable. He chewed his nails convulsively, he could practice his swordsmanship, gods knew he needed it. He'd lost... 

I lost. 

But his sword was too heavy and he was too unsteady on his feet. He was absolutely worthless... and everyone knew it. 

I can't be worthless... I can't be inefficient or idle... They'll come to fix me. 

He began to shiver as he recalled another time he had thought it was okay to take some time off. 

_"Please, I'm tired Lord Sandrem... I can't do anymore," Dilandau couldn't keep the whining quality out of his voice. He was utterly exhausted to the point of collapse. He'd been running the war scenario, where various trained warriors and mercenaries would pop up and challenge him some with swords some without to bloody duels, nonstop for three days. He sometimes got 5 to 10 minute breaks between fights, and sometimes he did not. _

_His master would watch him from sunrise in the morning until midnight, then he would take himself to bed expecting Dilandau to keep fighting as a freshly rested new batch of warriors came in to do battle with him. Sometimes they fought in groups against Dilandau, and sometimes they let him have a sword._

_They couldn't touch him; they never landed a hit on him, or drew blood. He was simply to quick and agile, and if they were foolish enough to let him have a blade they died. He was in his element, but there was only so much adrenaline a body could live off of. Sooner or later he was going to falter, and his combatants would spare him no mercy._

_Lord Sandrem said he was helping Dilandau build endurance. Dilandau felt positive he was still angry that he had beaten him in sword duel the previous week and out to have his blood spilled._

_*We can't hold out for much longer... that last man almost gutted us!*_

_I know!_

_"You will continue," Lord Sandrem said coldly. "I want to see just how good you are."_

_"But...but this is crazy..." Dilandau panted, two minutes had passed without a new battler and he was taking the time to plead with his Master. "It's been 3 days, and these men are really trying to hurt me. Can't you tell them it's practice?"_

_"If I'm not mistaken you've hurt quite a few of them Dilandau."_

_"They were trying to kill me!" His exhaustion was causing him to lose all formality with his master. _

_*The hell with this. We can take him. Get him down, and we can leave.*_

_Dilandau turned to advance on his Master. He was going to rest and he didn't care who he had to knock down to get that. It only took one hit with the heel of his hand colliding into Lord Sandrem's chin to get the man down, and his hand stung miserably. _

_*Asshole. Kick him*_

_But he's..._

_*Kick him!*_

_Dilandau delivered a brutal kick to his Master's mid-section knowing he'd undoubtably caused some internal damage. He would be punished severely for this._

_*Food, bed, sleep, in that order.*_

_"Yes sir," he complied, and like a zombie he trudged to the tiny room that contained his cot and his meager personal belongings. He stripped off the light armor he wore and curled up on the cool fabric still soiled with sweat, and pulled the thin quilt over his worn frame. _

_He would get at least an hour of sleep before someone came to discipline him._

_*But that someone sure won't be Lord Sandrem. He's going to be out of our lives for a quite a while. Good kick.*_

_Thanks...but what will we do when someone does come? _

_*We take them out too. We can take anybody, Dilandau. They've made us the best, and just spent three days proving it. No one can hurt us anymore; they have nothing left to teach us. After today we're the teachers now. We'll have a command post soon with our own soldiers to train. We're too valuable now to lose... they won't do a thing to us. We've earned this rest.*_

_Yeah, we have. We can do whatever we want, and if that whatever happens to be nothing, it's okay._

_*Good boy, Dilandau. You and I and are going to be the best Zaibach has ever seen. With your talent, and my drive, we can do anything.*_

_Yeah, he smiled softly, sighing blissfully, nothing can touch us now._

_No one came at all. When he awoke it was late into the next afternoon. He felt sure he'd slept for over 24 overs. He sat up stretching painfully, and frowning. _

_No one came._

_*They're afraid of us.*_

_Something's not right._

_*You worry too much, relax. The stomach's growling; feed it.*_

_And you never worry enough! I think we've slept for at least a day! I KNOW they've found Lord Sandrem by now! Why haven't they come to at least glare at us?_

_*I told you they are afraid, and they should be! Now go find food, and after we eat, we're going to find something fun to do. Why don't we go swimming? We liked that.*_

_But we have lessons in..._

_*We've earned some time off.*_

_Fine. _

_He washed up, then went down to the kitchens to scrap together a meal for himself. The kitchen maids gasped at the sight of him, and cringed away letting him take whatever he wanted. After feasting on bread, cheese, and fruit, he went out to the small pond behind the old manor. _

_The large house was the home of a noble years ago, but it had been turned into a training facility for soldiers, so far Dilandau was the only soldier in training there, and everyone inside took turns trying to kill him. The fact that he had been there for a nearly a month and was still alive with only a few bruises on his person said a lot._

_He spent the remainder of the day swimming and lounging, enjoying himself as he never had...ever. He came back in just before dusk for a light dinner. He was going to find a book to read in the library and take it back to his room. He never really had time for pleasure reading and he'd met many people who said it was good source of entertainment. He selected an adventure novel and laid on his small cot for hours reading about the escapades of Captain Jack Sparrow. _

_*This guy is so clever, but he's not ruthless enough. He's a failure as a pirate, no wonder his ship got taken from him. We'd never let that happen to us. You're too smart, I'm too cutthroat.*_

_You want to be pirates?_

_*Why not? Certainly sounds like fun, except lets not do the water thing. How about an airship? We like to fly.*_

_Flying is... the door to his room was thrown open, and he tossed down his book and dashed to the wall where he kept his sword mounted. Before he could touch the handle a cold voice called to him, "Stay where you are Dilandau."_

_Oh gods.... he froze in place as horror stabbed his body with long sharp needles..._

_The Madoushi._

_He was restrained and cried out as something sharp picked his neck savagely, and his legs turned to jelly beneath him. He hit the ground with a hard thud panicking as he realized he couldn't move any of his limbs. He could see, feel, and hear, but he couldn't move. He was and thrown over a brawny shoulder of one of the soldiers the Madoushi had brought in with them to be their muscle. _

_"What have we told you about being slothful, Dilandau. It's not proper behavior for a perfect soldier. We'll have to fix that."_

_No! He wanted to scream. I'm sorry! _

_"You do not have time to be lazy, Dilandau. There is always something that needs to be done, and you are to do it. I thought we had taught you well enough to know this, but I guess we thought wrong."_

_They entered a medium sized room that might have once served as a bedroom for one of the nobles that had been redesigned into a temporary laboratory. He was tossed onto a flat hard surface, and 3 pales faces loomed over him. "Time for a refresher course Dilandau... Scream if it hurts...oh wait, you can't."_

_I'll never do it again, I swear I'll never be idle again!_

_They couldn't hear him though. But even if They could, it wouldn't have mattered at all. All that had mattered was that he disobeyed them and They had to be sure he would never do it again. _

_Never again, he swore, never again._

__Never again... 

He shuddered so violently Shesta had to take hold of his arm to keep him from falling over. "Lord Dilandau, lets go back to your quarters now. I think you've had enough for the morning." 

"No," he said shaking his head. No, there was always something that needed to be done. He wasn't allowed to rest, why couldn't they understand that? They always wanted him to lie down; they were always giving him drugs to make him sleep. Didn't they know They would come and take him away again if he was idle. 

They would fine out about his loss, how weak he was, and that he was lying around doing nothing. 

"Shesta?" 

"Yes Lord Dilandau?" 

"I want to go to the library." 

There was always something to be done, and his best bet to find something was in there. There was so much junk in that room he'd be lost in it for hours, and that constituted as being busy. They wouldn't get him if he was busy. 

Shesta nodded slowly, a puzzled look on his face. 

Dilandau swooned a bit and cursed himself for being so weak. He carefully placed a hand on Shesta's shoulder, "Shesta?" 

"Yes?" the blond looked startled. 

"I...think I'm going to need your help." He didn't think it was possible for the hallway to get any colder than it was, but it did. His knees threatened to give out, and he was thankful for Shesta's steadying arm around his waist. "Just walk slow." 

"Lord Dilandau, we should really get you back to bed." 

"Library...now." 

"Yes Lord Dilandau." 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Gatty stood on the platform in front of Dilandau's throne overseeing the hand-to-hand combat session. Everyone was coming along nicely, but he could see some problems he was going to have to remedy before practice was over. He left the platform to venture to the Second String Slayers, Tristan and Kwame, who were being much too polite to their partners for it to be a pretend fight to the death. Surprisingly the Third-Stringers were performing better than the Second-Stringers in this exercise. Perhaps it was because the boys in Third-String were from simpler parts of Zaibach where weapons were not always available for people to fight with. Either way, Gatty had mixed the two groups amongst each other, and the Third-Stringers were kicking ass. Lord Dilandau would be pleased. 

He stood back from the group after correcting the errors he had noticed, and looked at the time device on the wall as he thought about Dilandau. It was almost time for him to switch vigilance posts with Shesta. The time had really gotten away from him. 

"Enough!" he barked in a stentorian voice, and eleven Slayers stopped their assaults on one another to stare at him. 

"Good practice everyone, Third String especially. Hit the showers, and we'll break for the morning." 

Everyone cleared out but Viole and Miguel. 

"Well that went almost decently," Miguel said dabbing at his forehead with a towel. "Not bad Gatty. Who knew if you made the Third String throw down their swords they could move more like human beings instead of baby elephants." 

The doors to the gym flew open and Dallet rushed in, "Lord Dilandau's up, and Folken's just given him the news about us not being able to leave the Vione. He's... in a mood, and looking for you three." 

"Just us?" Viole questioned. "I feel special." 

"No idiot, he wants his Elite, and you three were the only ones not guarding him and with him at the time!" Dallet snapped. "Come on, he's really agitated." 

Viole winced, "Great... can't wait." 

Gatty wanted to reprimand the boy, but he really couldn't find fault in his dread. Lord Dilandau in an agitated state was not pretty for anyone within punching distance. 

"Come on guys," Gatty sighed clapping hands on both Viole and Miguel's shoulders and pushing them along in front of him. "Maybe we can cheer him up, huh?" 

"Yeah right." 

"Viole can tell some jokes," Gatty suggested. 

"You said 'cheer' him up, not make him want to have flight practice without his Oreades," Miguel mumbled. 

"Hey! My jokes are good thank you very much, Miguel. You just don't like them because most of them have to do with you," Viole sniffed, and looked down his nose at Miguel superiorly. 

Miguel gave a growl, but was restrained by Gatty's arm from moving closer to the wavy haired pixie. Viole flashed him a devilish smile, "So Gatty... What do you call 15 Miguel's stuck in a..." 

Gatty, Miguel, Viole, and Dallet entered the library after knocking hesitantly. The room was spacious and round, with bookcases carved to fit its unique shape curving each wall, and lit by hanging flourescent lights. In the center of the room were long metal tables flanked with high backed black velvet upholstered chairs. A large pile of books sat atop the middle table, most open, some lying face down. There was a huge map spread across another table, with marking tools and a compass beside it. Guimel sat on the table with the map the usual lazy sloe-eyed look gone from his eyes, he jumped up at seeing Gatty and the others enter. 

"He's scaring me," Guimel murmured shakily. "He's in some sort of weird trance. He's obsessed with not being a sloth, and is ignoring everything we have to say to him that doesn't pertain with his current project. We think he's trying to map all of Gaea..." 

"What?" Gatty blinked. "Why would he want do that?" 

Guimel shrugged, "He's gone crazy. He walked out of Folken's room with this odd look on his face, and had Dallet go after you guys, and then he dragged us in here. He's been pulling down every traveling book, guide, and map we have..." 

"Gatty, good!" Gatty jerked to attention at Lord Dilandau's voice. 

His leader stood dressed in plain clothes holding a large roll of parchment, "I need you to help Shesta in the log book section back there, he's got his hands full. Miguel, go find me some more map paper, this isn't going to do. Viole, you've got art supplies don't you? Go and fetch them for me. Dallet, help Guimel straighten out this mess!" 

Gatty blinked, "L...Lord Dilandau, what...are you doing? Did Lord Folken give you an assignment?" 

"Folken?" Lord Dilandau sang the name. He looked thoughtful, then shook his head. "Other than give me bullshit paperwork and tell me to mind my own damn business, when his business is mine, no. And for your information, I'm updating Zaibach's maps of Known Territory. It has been painfully neglected since the wars started. We've come across so many new things that haven't been charted yet, documented, but not drawn out." 

Gatty stared as Lord Dilandau tossed down the parchment and rubbed his injured cheek furiously as if it itched, "I've got to do something...I can't just sit still and wait, and do busy work. I've got to be useful. Folken wants me to be lazy; you want me to be lazy... There are too many things to do around here for me to be lazy. Can't you see?" 

Gatty could see him shaking. 

"Lord Dilandau, I'll be glad to help," Viole spoke up, and Gatty could have smacked him. The last thing they needed was for someone to encourage Dilandau's neurotic behavior. 

What had the medics dosed him with that night? He was already pulling on Miguel's arm to whisper, "Miguel, go to the clinic and bring back a medic. We'll get him subdued enough to sit still." 

Miguel nodded, "I'll be back with your map paper Lord Dilandau." He shot Gatty a meaningful look and jogged from the room. 

Shesta appeared from behind a bookcase carrying an armload of dusty journals, he set them on the table Lord Dilandau had threw his parchment on. He gave Gatty a worried glance, and turned his attention back to Lord Dilandau who busied himself in spreading out the parchment and rolling edges up with small colorful pins. The tan paper covered the span of the table, and Shesta had to lift the journals he'd just set down to make room for it. 

Viole helped Lord Dilandau smooth out the paper, "I'll bring my charcoal set and tracing tools. I'll be right back." 

Viole left the room, ignoring the sharp looks the others sent him. 

"Maybe you should sit down for a bit while we wait for Miguel and Viole to come back, Lord Dilandau," Shesta said softly, he pulled out a chair. 

Lord Dilandau frowned, "There's more books in back; I can't miss anything." He didn't look at the chair or Shesta before disappearing behind into the sea of bookshelves again. 

"Shesta, what the hell?" Gatty demanded. "I thought he was still supposed to be out of it! What's the matter with him?" 

Shesta shook his head, "He woke up this morning, and insisted on finding Folken. After Folken told him he was going to Astoria and we are to stay here, he sort of snapped. He was upset when he found out about being asleep for 2 days, and after he heard he couldn't be of service to Folken... I don't know, he's just not used to not doing anything I guess." 

"Shesta, that is way too simple of an explanation! He's gone nuts! Maybe Folken told him something else..." 

"I heard every word of what was said. We were standing just outside the door." 

"Damn..." Gatty let out a sigh of frustration. "I sent Miguel to get a medic, maybe they can give him another shot. He looks like hell, and needs to be lying down, and he needs to stop messing with his face. It's bleeding again. Geez Shes, the only other time I've seen him like this...well not exactly like this since _this_ is 20 times worse was when.." 

"Last year, when we when we stayed in Fort Joslin. That massive storm blew in, and the whole Fort was in a state of emergency. It raged for two weeks straight, and we couldn't hold our practices outdoors or in. He was positively unbearable. We all avoided him like the plague. I've never seen anyone that...anxious. I wanted to label it as stir crazy...but it was too intense to be that. It was almost like he was worried someone was going to hurt him for having to lay low for a few days. But no one touches Lord Dilandau, he never got any discipline that we saw or heard about..." 

"He ended up making us go out in the storm, and held our practices in the mud trying not to get blown away. Remember how sick everyone got? Well he didn't get sick, of course." 

"Well he is now..." Gatty said. The clatter of many hard backed books striking the floor caught their attention, and both Gatty and Shesta were in motion weaving between the bookcases to get to the source of the noise. 

Lord Dilandau sat on his knees on the floor surrounded by books looking dazed. "Are you all right?" Gatty was at his side first. 

"The books were too heavy," Lord Dilandau murmured. "I need you to carry them. Maybe...maybe we should get a cart. I don't know why I didn't think of that before..." 

Gatty and Shesta exchanged a look. 

"Stop it the both of you," Lord Dilandau snapped at them massaging his temples. "I can see and hear just fine thank you, and I don't appreciate the whispering or the secretive looks you keep giving each other over my head! What's the matter with? I give you an order, you do it, and don't question me! Just because...because...." his breathing hitched and he touched the injured side of his face again. 

"Oh no! No!" Shesta shook his head as he started gathering the journals together in neat piles. "Lord Dilandau we're simply concerned for you health. We mean no disrespect when we hesitate to obey your orders. You are our Master and what you say goes. But we do care about you, and I think you're running a fever again you seem a little...delirious." 

"I'm fine," Lord Dilandau murmured softly, still holding the hand to his face, "absolutely fine." He let Gatty pull him to his feet. 

"I just need...to stay busy." 

Gatty frowned, "Is that all?" 

Lord Dilandau nodded, "I have to be useful." 

Gatty blinked, his leader looked like death thrice warmed over, and the gleam in his scarlet eyes was not quite sane. He was very afraid of something, but his hold on the present was too precarious for Gatty to even want to question him what. He had the look of someone who needed to be reassured. 

Gatty had little brothers who had always seemed to need petting every once and a while. There had been just too many children in the small cottage for his parents to pay attention to everyone. It was part of why he'd left. He couldn't take much more of being ignored by his parents, doing most of the household chores, and chasing after small boys like some sort of nanny. If he'd had breast his Momma would have had him being a wet nurse. It was either leave or go insane; so he'd run away and joined the military. But sometimes he thought about them, his younger brothers. What had become of them, and who gave them the attention they needed now? 

"Go sit down Lord Dilandau, Shesta and I will pick up all the books, and we'll get a cart so we can bring them to you," Gatty said in a comforting tone. "Is there anything else you wanted us to look up for you and add to the piles?" 

Lord Dilandau shook his head, eyes wide as a child's as he brought his hand down from his face. Moving slowly, as if lost in a dream, he made his way through the bookcases. 

"I don't like way he looks," Shesta whispered. "My Papa looked better than that when he passed on. What's wrong with him Gatty? You don't think he has one of those diseases that eat you up from the inside and there's no medicine for it, do you? I mean, wouldn't Folken have cured him by now if it was just a cold or gripe, something simple?" 

"Calm yourself Shesta, you're starting to sound like Viole. I thought he was the master of overreacting. Lord Dilandau's got some bug, and he's not resting, not eating, and constantly working himself up into...into this. Every time we get him calmed down, and ready to rest, something happens. Well, nothing is going to happen today. He wants to draw maps, so we'll draw maps. Oh shit..Miguel went to get one of the doctors..." 

"Judging from the lack of noise up front no one's arrived yet. I'm gonna drop these journals off in front and see if I can head him off," Shesta had calmed considerably, though his eyes still shone with worry. "I'll be back." 

Gatty found a nice metal cart with wheels to stack the rest of the journals on and pushed them up front where Guimel and Dallet were looking on in amusement at Viole and Lord Dilandau with their heads together holding fistfuls of black charcoal over the large sheet of beige map paper. 

Viole's blue tackle box of art supplies sat on the floor by their feet, "We'll chalk in the outlines, and then we can paint in the landmarks..." Lord Dilandau was saying to Viole who was staring at an open map book. 

Gatty stopped the cart right beside Dallet, and smirked down at the project, "Is there anything us non-artistic guys can do?" 

"Yeah, stop breathing on us. No offense but your breath is worse than one of those flea-bitten horses we rode into Astoria on!" Viole snorted. "If you really wanna be useful get us some snacks!" 

Dallet looked ready to thwack Viole, but refrained because he was standing too close to Lord Dilandau. Guimel blew his breath into his hands testing to see if Viole's statement was true, and Gatty rolled his eyes. He nudged Dallet, "Hey... would you mind going to the kitchen and seeing what they have in there. You know what he likes." He inclined his head toward Dilandau. 

Dallet got down off of the table, "No problem." 

Miguel and Shesta returned, Miguel looking mildly annoyed. He moved beside Gatty, "The medics say they refuse to attend to him if he's fully conscious, say he's volatile. They did give me a few pills that can be dissolved in water or juice that can put him to sleep for a few hours. What's your new decision, temporary boss?" 

Gatty shrugged and gazed back at Lord Dilandau who was sitting on his knees in a soft chair with a ruler making a legend. "He's fine, Miguel. He's sitting down and he seems at peace. I think we should let him be." 

Miguel nodded, then wrinkled his nose, "I've never seen Lord Dilandau take on an art project, have you?" 

Gatty shook his head negatively, "Never. I wonder if he's as good as art as he is at everything else?" 

"We'll see." 

They took seats across the table from the devoted cartographers beside Guimel and Shesta, and bantered amongst themselves while waiting for Dallet to return with snacks. This was quickly proving to be one of their better mornings. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 

Allen felt a little guilty for rushing his brief meeting with the third Princess of Astoria, Millerna, and for leaving Hitomi and Van alone, but he had duty to attend to. He had to see the King right away and tell them about him about Zaibach's betrayal. The monsters could be coming to attack the capitol next. He shuddered to think about Dilandau loose in Palas. After what he and his men...well he couldn't say men exactly, they were boys, all of them... but after seeing the devastation they could inflict with no remorse, he didn't want anyone to underestimate them. 

How could boys so young behave in such a way? The one he'd taken hostage couldn't have been older than 14 or 15, come to think of it neither could Dilandau. The height of the soldiers prompted one to have misconceptions of their age, but if one actually looked into their faces they would see the freshness of youth. 

Zaibach was creating monsters wearing the guises of children. He would have written it off as that after the fall of his castle, but after his temporary capture of one of the Dragonslayers and seeing that boy's fear, he knew that couldn't be it. Monsters didn't fear anything, humans did. 

The horse ride was over through the city was smooth and gave him ample time to think about how he was going to address the king. He arrived at the palace gates, and slid from the horse brushing his uniform free of dander, and running a hand through his hair to straighten it. Two guards came out to meet him and escort him inside the palace gates, and inside the walls. 

King Aston sat on his throne looking plump and overripe glaring down at Allen with a look of poorly disguised impatience and irritation. Allen frankly was confused by the king's manner. He was usually very pleased to see Allen and always accepted him with an open mind to his suggestions and advice. Had something happened that he didn't know about? 

He'd delivered his news about Zaibach's betrayal of their treaty, and stayed in a kneel with his head bowed respectively sneaking glances though his long hair to see the king's reaction. 

"Are you trying to bring disaster upon my country, Allen Schezar?" King Aston growled after a long contemplative pause, and Allen jerked his head up to stare at the monarch in shock. 

"For one little outpost you would be willing to risk Zaibach's wrath? What have you done?" 

What the...? Allen blinked. Me? What have _I_ done? Could King Aston be under the influence? He had just told him Zaibach had deliberately and viciously attacked some of his soldiers! If they did that to Allen's castle, what's to stop them from leveling other places in Astoria? He had to do something to get the king's attention, and make him realize how serious this situation was. 

"Chivalry demands that we protect the King of Fanelia whose country was destroyed by Zaibach," he pointed out. If King Aston didn't care enough about him to want to take action, he certainly could not ignore another monarch in need. 

"That is not true." 

Well that certainly hadn't sounded like King Aston and the old man's lips hadn't moved, though that ridiculous moustache of his did flicker a bit. Allen's eyes slid over to the shadowy area just beside the throne and a tall figure emerged. He was pale and eccentric looking with spiky sky blue tinted hair, and a violet tattoo of a tear under one eye. He wore long dark robes and seemed to float as he walked closer to where Allen knelt. 

"You seem to be the victim of a misunderstanding, Allen Schezar," the man said in a low voice that flowed as mellifluously as a river over glabrous rocks. 

"Who is this?" Allen managed to keep his voice calm as he stared at the stranger, who smirked at him. The man's smug demeanor made him want to shiver and throw a punch at the same time. 

"Folken, Strategos of Zaibach," the king answered. 

"Zaibach?" Allen breathed, and his stomach sank. Zaibach had beaten him there after all, and they already had the king in their pocket. Perfect. 

"King Aston, Fanelia launched a sneak attack against _us_." 

"I've heard nothing of this," Allen kept his tone light though he was fuming inside. Lies... this man was standing there lying to the king and the king was believing him! It was an outrage. Allen wanted to set this castle on fire like his had been he was so frustrated. 

Where the hell had that come from? 

He had been quite the firebug when he was young, liking to light matches and burn small piles of leaves. Then his mother had caught one day and spanked him until his bottom turned black and blue all the while grumbling about how he was going to turn out to be just like his father. Allen hadn't seen the connection then and still didn't see it now, but after that he'd lost all desire to start fires and watch them burn. 

"It's the truth," the Strategos of Zaibach insisted speaking directly to him. "If you were to hand over the Fanelian king and his guymelef, Escaflowne, I'm sure we could overlook this incident." 

Then Folken turned to the king, "I would like to avoid any incidents which might endanger our alliance." 

To Allen's further aggravation, the king nodded. Stupid idiot... 

"We have an agreement then." Folken chuckled darkly and floated back across the room to fade into shadow once more. 

Allen shuddered, then turned his attention back to King Aston who was speaking again. 

"Allen Schezar, if you truly love this country you will turn over the King of Fanelia and his guymelef at once. Chivalry alone cannot protect a country." 

Allen felt the crazy urge again to strike a match. This could not be happening. He gritted his teeth and bowed his head as if accepting his king's final judgement. There was no need to get his own head chopped off for being viewed as being insubordinate in the king's court. 

He would come up with a new game plan later. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Van wasn't really interested in visiting the market place, but the Princess had insisted they go, and Hitomi and Merle seemed to be excited about it. He tagged along behind them not really paying attention to their squeals of delight when they passed certain booths that held jewelry or various performers showing off their skill. 

His mind was wherever Allen was. He wanted to know how he was doing with the king of Astoria. He'd been a trifle insulted when Allen had taken off without inviting him to come along. He wanted to speak on his country's behalf himself, not leave it up to a foreigner who knew virtually nothing about it. He felt that once again he was failing Fanelia by leaving its fate in the hand of others. 

Something familiar caught his eye, two men in gray armor stood on a stone bridge a few feet away and a few feet above him. 

Zaibach soldiers... Then he gasped as a tall figure in a dark cloak joined them... Folken! What the hell was he doing there? 

He pushed through the crowded walkway ignoring the Princess as she called out after him wanting to know where he was going. He couldn't lose track of Folken. 

He followed his brother through dark alleyways and uncrowded passages getting the distinct feeling that he was being led somewhere. He was not exactly trailing after his brother discreetly. He had been trying to get his attention, but Folken had kept walking. 

If Folken had a trap set for him, he was going to fall right into it. 

Folken finally chose a path that led them out into the open. He walked across a bridge as a horse drawn carriage pulled up. The soldier driving the carriage nodded to Folken, and jumped down to open the door for him, "I've come to take you back to the Fortress, Lord Folken." 

Van stepped onto the bridge staring hard at his brother's back. The man had to know he was there, but he was still ignoring him. He took a deep breath, about to bellow his name when he suddenly gazed up. A large gray complex floated overhead just beyond the cliffs. A floating fortress... Van wondered dimly if the Dragonslayers were aboard it, and about Dilandau. Had the pale deity come to his senses and realized what Van had done to his beautiful complexion. He sincerely hoped he hadn't done that much damage, it would be a terrible shame. He hadn't come down on him too hard, the cut had to have been shallow. There had been a lot of blood, but cuts or wounds opened in the head area tended to bleed out a lot. 

It was the look on his face that had floored Van, and kept him wondering. Something in his eyes had seemed to shatter, like crystal. At that time the boy had seemed as fragile as his appearance denoted him to be. 

He had never felt as guilty for doing anything in his life than he had at that moment. 

But he had to remember...Dilandau, though Van hadn't seen him, had burned Fanelia, Dilandau had burned Allen's castle, and Dilandau was trying to kill him... 

He hardened his stature, and ran to the center of the bridge crying out, "Brother!" 

He stopped, panting and staring as Folken turned around at an infuriatingly slow pace. "Van, are you prepared to return with me to Zaibach?" 

Of all the nerve... 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

Dilandau sat atop his throne stroking the bandage on his face rhythmically. He had folded up his map project to come watch his Dragonslayers during their afternoon practice. Gatty was still in charge of it, giving orders and showing valuable leadership skills. Dilandau had chosen well when he'd made him his right hand instead of Shesta or Miguel. 

It had been hard to put away his new obsession, and Gatty had insisted that he finish, and for Viole to stay behind and help. Dilandau had been tempted to listen, but his first duty was to his Slayers. For two days he had left them under the care of another person, and he needed to see where they stood in their training, what needed to be worked on. 

So far everything looked fine, great even... they hadn't needed him. Gatty was becoming just as good as he was. They listened to him as he stood tall, blond, and proud, face unmarred and untainted by any blade. 

Why should his Dragonslayers listen to an inferior captain when they could have Gatty? 

Damn Van Fanel, damn him to each one of the seven hells he could think of. He hoped Van burned and writhed in eternal flame, and prayed he could be there to watch. 

His cheek throbbed painfully as he continued to abuse the tender healing flesh beneath the gauze. "It stings..." he kept repeating aloud to himself. 

The painkiller was wearing off...if it had ever worked. Every time Dilandau remembered the wound it ached and burned. Stupid Van...stupid..stupid... 

I hate him...hate him...hate him... 

He shut his eyes as he saw double. He was heart was racing again, and his limbs were beginning to tremble with pent in energy. He was being given the power to go after Van... the gods were telling him to kill Van. 

Why else would he suddenly be feeling as if he could climb mountains and swim oceans? 

He rose from his seat and bounded down the stairs of his platform. He didn't see the startled looks he was being given, or hear his Elite calling him. He didn't have time for them... the gods were impatient beings, and they would take away his power if he didn't hurry. 

He headed for the flight deck where his beloved Oreades was kept. It had been polished since his last battle, and he climbed up and inside it quickly. The familiar cockpit invited him inside, and he made himself comfortable in the chair. As he activated the controls silver liquid metal poured into the cockpit sealing his body in a protective shell. Wonderful... 

He and his Oreades began to walk to the end of the flight deck, toward the open doors. He heard a small voice calling out to him on his right, and he turned his head to Shesta keeping pace with him. 

"Lord Dilandau! Lord Folken instructed us not to leave the anchorage!" 

"Who said anything about leaving the Vione?" Dilandau snickered to himself, and when he reached the end of the deck went down into a kneel. He extended the red arm of his guymelef and extended a single crima-claw. He looked through his scope magnifying its intensity so he could see the ground of Astoria below. Van was there...he had to be. Why else would Folken make him stay aboard the ship? 

Searching... 

Searching... 

Found! Aww... look at Van so unsuspecting of what's going to happen to him. He spotted Folken only a few feet away. He was going to be very angry with Dilandau when he got back. 

Oh well. 

The gods were a higher power than Folken, and they wanted Van dead as much as he did. His palms were sweaty as he entered the command to set the single crima-claw at maximum power, focusing all pressure in that area. It would pierce Van's heart and take out part of the bridge as well. He licked his lips, and his cheek throbbed as a dull reminder that he didn't have much time. 

"Say 'bye, bye,' Van..." Dilandau purred, and pressed the button to launch his weapon. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

"Why Folken, why are you working for Zaibach?" Van demanded as Folken stood gazing at him. His little brother was so painfully thin. When he brought him back to Zaibach he would make sure he ate more. Then he wouldn't look so much like a scarecrow. 

Folken sighed as he studied the stubborn look on his brother's face...just like father. "Folken of Fanelia is dead. On the day the dragon ripped off this arm," Folken let his metal hand emerge from his cloak, "I died." 

"It was Emperor Dornkirk who gave me life again." 

He did his best to suppress the flood of emotion that tried to submerge him while he was speaking. He didn't want to lose his air of calm and dignity in front of his brother. He had to seem like he was in control, and knew what was best. 

"Van, you are my brother, and in you a see a soul too gentle for this harsh world of war, and hate. The hearts of men have become black and vile, they kill beasts, they kill dragons, and they even kill other men. Zaibach quests to change that Van, to change the fate of mankind to destroy each other." 

"But it was Zaibach that started all the fighting!" Van argued. 

Very astute, Folken acknowledged Van's statement with a small laugh, "We fight to bring an end to that conflict; to bring a new order to the world. It's a true holy way." 

"Fighting to bring an end to fighting? There's no such thing!" Van's face was still hard, Folken was gaining no ground. 

"Van come with me, help me create a new world," Folken spread his arms out wide, throwing back his cloak, hoping it made him look more approachable. Talks of philosophy obviously were not going to sway his brother, so perhaps an argument of pathos would prove more efficient. Maybe all Van wanted was his older brother back as much as Folken wanted his younger brother back. Instead of kidnaping and war talk, maybe all he wanted was the promise of healthy relationship. 

Van looked ready to take a step forward, his eyes gentling...but then there was a scream from behind. A young girl in a short dress was running at a very fast pace toward them yelling, "Van, look out!" 

Van jumped and turned to see the girl, "Hitomi?" 

"Get down!" the girl hurled herself at Van knocking him down onto the wood of the bridge. 

Folken frowned, what was she.... The place where Van had been standing exploded. A thick piece of liquid crima-claw metal ruptured the timber and jutted down into the water now harmless. 

Folken blinked, he saw no Alseides nearby, that claw had to have come from the Vione. 

Dilandau. 

He had been about to win Van over! 

Dammit Dilandau. 

He squeezed his fists together in anger, that brat always found a loopholes to get out of everything! Then he frowned... 

When he left Dilandau certainly hadn't been pleased, but he'd been no where near killing rage. What had happened? 

He needed to get back to Vione. 

He looked down at his brother still sprawled on the bridge staring at the strange girl in the short dress, and decided to make his exit. He would talk with Van another day. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

"Where the hell is he going?" Miguel knocked Viole over and held him pinned until he surrendered. 

"Who?" Shesta asked catching Guimel in a headlock. 

"Lord Dilandau," Miguel let Viole up and nodded toward their retreating leader. 

"Lord Dilandau?" Gatty was calling out after him, but the captain acted like he hadn't heard a thing. 

"Shit," Dallet grumbled. "What now? I thought we'd gotten him calmed down. I knew we shouldn't have let him come in here!" 

"No, we shouldn't have..." Shesta breathed, "I'll go get him." 

Shesta ran after Lord Dilandau and got to him in time to see him bringing his Oreades to the lips of the flight deck. Fearful he was going to leave the ship he reminded Lord Dilandau of Folken's orders. 

Lord Dilandau had other things on his mind, and Shesta watched as the Oreades knelt and prepared to fire a single crima-claw. The great mecha burned red as its energist charged itself up to full power, and it shook with the unbalanced strain. 

Oh gods... it's going to explode. 

He saw the shot go out, and heard his leader's insane cackling and urging of the liquid metal. Then he heard his curse, and suddenly the mecha was crumbling, collapsing upon itself. Its hatch opened pouring out the protective gel and a frazzled Lord Dilandau. He slid onto the floor falling to his knees panting and holding his chest. Shesta ran to him. 

"Lord Dilandau are you alright?" He knelt down touching Dilandau's face and gasping at how moist his skin felt. 

"N...no.... oh gods Shesta, it hurts..." 

"What does?" Don't panic Shesta, don't panic. 

Lord Dilandau swallowed hard, "Chest...heart's beating too fast... I can feel the pain in my neck, and arms... and I can't breathe. I think, I think..." 

Shesta barely had time to move before Dilandau was vomiting. "Gods..." he rubbed his ailing captain's back. "It's...gonna be okay, Lord Dilandau. Lets try to get you comfortable alright, and then I'll call for help. Everything's going to be just fine." 

Lord Dilandau was 15, the same age as Shesta, but his symptoms were exactly the same as his Papa's when he'd had his heart attack. 

Papa had died an hour later. 

Gods, he helped Dilandau into the fetal position he found to be the most comfortable, and ran from the deck into the hallway to call for help. 

*~* Author's Note: Wow so you made it to the end? I told you it was long. I didn't exaggerate did I, lol? Anyways, what did you think? Good, bad...ugly? Please review, take care, and next update won't take forever ;) *~* 


	11. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: Ok, I guess I'm doing good again on updates, twice in one month! I am sorry, but this chapter is crazy long. I thought about trying to chop it off like I did the last chapter, but I got tired of doing that. I decided to just finish what I wanted to happen in this chapter. I hope you guys like it and don't kill me for the length lol. Ok I'm going to stop babbling, because it's 11:30 pm, and I still haven't started my homework, lol.** 

  
  


Thanks to: Nikku, FeyeMorgan, Rita, Asuka Kureru, for your wonderful feedback :)

  
  
  
  


Chapter 10   
  


"He's going into cardiogenic shock!" one of the medics said as Miguel, Viole, Gatty, Guimel, Dallet, and Shesta watched them lift Dilandau carefully onto a white gurney. 

"Keep pumping that oxygen into him and as soon as we get to the clinic we'll start an IV. I want to get some beta-blockers, and some nitrates into this kid. He's too young for a heart attack, lets nip this thing before it causes any damage."

The team of two men and a women in white tunics jogged out of the room pushing the gurney chattering back and forth to one another rapidly in clipped sentences.

"Good gods... Shesta if you hadn't of followed him..." Guimel began. "A heart attack? Aren't those for old people?"

"I thought so," Viole said. 

"How could he have a heart attack? He's healthy, or he was healthy. He exercises, he eats like a bird, he doesn't smoke..." Gatty wondered.

"He drinks, and he's got a bad temper. There's also stress..." Dallet pointed out.

"Maybe he has an enlarged heart," Guimel suggested, and they all stared at him curiously. "I knew a guy in my home town, a solider a few years older than us. He just dropped dead one day while he was practicing with his sword. When the town coroner did the autopsy it turned out the guy's heart was almost twice the size of a regular heart."

His comrades had paled and Guimel wished he could take back his story immediately. "But, you know, if Lord Dilandau had an enlarged heart someone would have known about it by now. I mean when the Sorcerers take him away every month they have to do full body scans on him to make sure he's ok."

"He's only sick when he comes back from them," Shesta said roughly. "They did this. He was fine!"

"No, he was going nuts," Guimel countered. "Remember? He was having us defy every order Adelphos gave us, talking to himself, and being just plain mean. I mean his decent into madness was gradual, but..." he broke off shaking his head. 

"He wasn't that..." Viole began but then made a face. "Ok, so I was thinking about turning in my resignation and taking a beating. He was turning into a different person. He'd stopped spending time with us doing homework, and trying to help us get better in practice. It was like he'd adopted another life's philosophy or something. It was freaky. When he came back this time, he really came back. He's the guy I pledged to die for again...and now he's gonna..."

"He's not going to die," Gatty said fiercely. "He'd never leave us, he's got to teach us some more, and we still have to find the dragon. He's got too much to do, he can't rest when there are thing to be done, remember?"

"My Papa had a heart attack and he looked much better than Lord Dilandau does. He died Gatty," Shesta breathed. 

"Shut up Shesta!" Miguel snapped. "Your Papa was old!"

"Miguel!" Viole gasped incredulously. "Show some tact."

"He's telling us Lord Dilandau is going to die; I don't have to be compassionate to him at all! Is he being compassionate to us?" Miguel demanded. 

"Look, everyone just calm down," Gatty hissed. "We have to go out there and tell the other Slayers what's going on, and we don't want to alarm them."

"Lord Dilandau is having a coronary... how is that not going to alarm them? If any of them caught sight of him in the hall being wheeled out of here they'd freak. He looks like..."

"I KNOW what he looks like!" Gatty exploded. "Miguel you are not helping anyone or anything! If you are going to continue jumping down everyone's throats for making suggestions, to which you have none to add, you may leave!"

Miguel glared at Gatty then looked around the small circle to see that no one was speaking up for him. "Fine!" he roared. He didn't have to stay where he wasn't wanted. He stormed out of the hangar.

"Jerk," Guimel murmured placing an arm around Shesta's shivering shoulders. "Shes.... he did tell the truth about your Pops. The way he phrased it was inappropriate, though. Your Papa was an old man and it was probably his time to go. Lord Dilandau isn't even a man yet, it can't be over for him. It looks bad, but I can't see that guy dying on us, not yet, not without us dying first. Now I don't know about you, but I'm not ready to commit a mass suicide and if he's really going to die now that is what we need to be preparing to do. Our lives go to him and if he's not here..."

Dallet nodded furiously, "I won't serve under anyone else and I pledged to be a Dragonslayer until death."

"See, Lord Dilandau wouldn't go and die on us, because he knows we'll die too. He cares too much about us to let that happen. I mean a few colors ago I might not have been too sure about that statement anymore, but now.... yeah," Guimel looked certain and he squeezed Shesta's shoulder. "He's gonna be fine."

"What do we tell the others?" Gatty asked with his eyes closed.

"Tell them the truth. There's no need to hide anything from them," Shesta whispered. "They'll find out eventually, but you don't have to tell them we think it might be a heart attack. We don't know that and there's no need to scare them."

"It won't take all of us to give that announcement. Guimel and I are going to see about Lord Dilandau. I know the medics will be busy, but someone in there may at least be able to tell us what's going on," Dallet said patting Gatty's shoulder.

Gatty nodded, "Shesta will you come with me to make the announcement?"

"Sure," Shesta agreed solemnly.

Viole stood gazing around at his companions waiting for his job to be explained. When nothing came he got impatient, "Hey, what about me? No one wants me to come with them?"

"Uh...."

"Well..."

"Oh....I'll go find Miguel. He...he doesn't mean to be harsh; he just doesn't know how to handle fear well," Viole sighed. "When I find him we'll join Dallet and Guimel in the clinic. How's that?"

"Perfect," Gatty clapped his hands. "Lets get to it then."

  
  


******************************************************************************************************************************* 

Upon his arrival, Folken was immediately met by two Dragonslayers he didn't know by name. "Lord Folken, you are needed you in the clinic. It's Lord Dilandau, sir."

Folken raised a hand letting them know that he didn't need to hear anymore. He walked past them leaving his escorts to deal with his suitcase. 

How many more outburst could Dilandau's body take? To save his life, Folken actually entertained the idea of putting the boy in some sort of stasis, maybe an induced coma, to ensure he kept calm until Folken could come up with a way to control his hormones. 

He reached the clinic doors and stepped through, not greeting Guimel, Dallet, Shesta, or Gatty as they sat anxiously on a small metal bench outside of a drawn white curtain. 

"Lord Folken!" they all bolted into a standing position.

"The medics wanted to be alerted as soon as you got here, sir," Gatty said briskly.

"What happened?" Folken asked staring at the curtain.

"He was fine...then he came to watch practice and I guess he got upset. He went to the hangar and got out his Oreades..."

"I was down below to see the result of that."

"...then when he came back out he fell over and complained about pain in his chest and arms, and how he couldn't breathe and his heart was beating too fast. Lord Folken, my father had a heart attack and that is certainly what it seemed like was happening to Lord Dilandau. The medics came in here, shut the curtains, and haven't said anything to us except, 'send Folken to us immediately when he returns.'" 

Folken blinked at Shesta's words, it did sound like a heart attack, and in Dilandau's present condition it was a definite possibility. His heart muscle was constantly being overtaxed. He parted the curtain and slipped behind it without saying anything else to the 4 grave boys. 

The world behind the curtain was rather calm compared to the emergency situation Folken had been envisioning. He walked past a row of empty white beds until he reached the end of the room where he had to draw back another curtain, much thinner than the one he'd first entered through. 

Dilandau laid sleeping on his back with a clear mask over his face feeding him oxygen and an IV draining into one arm. His skin was gray, and his hair was matted with sweat. Folken touched his face gently jerking back at how cool the boy felt. 

"Lord Folken.... thank the gods you're here," Marie, the head medic, approached from a back room. She held a syringe and several tubes in her hands. 

"What happened?" Folken asked. "Was it a heart attack?"

"Almost," Marie answered calmly. She set her tools down on a small table next to Dilandau's bed. She picked up the bottle of antiseptic that had been sitting on the table and some fresh cotton swabs and prepped the tender area on the inside of Dilandau's elbow. "There was no clotting and there is no damage to the heart muscle. We just gave him something to help ease the pain and thin the blood a bit, and he calmed down. It's all coming from over stimulation and I can't understand it. There's just too much strain being put on his heart and lungs and he only seems to show improvement when he's sedated. I have a feeling you know more about this situation and perhaps you can enlighten me so that I can help this young man."

Folken watched as she inserted the hollow needle and began to draw blood into the vile attached to the syringe. Just how much of Dilandau's past should he reveal to the woman? He, himself, was going to get to work on something that could help Dilandau, but that process would go so much more smoothly with another trained professional helping him. Dilandau couldn't mind the loss of privacy much if it meant he got better...

Folken sighed, "You may want to sit down Marie, I've got quite a story to tell you."  
  


*******************************************************************************************************************************

Viole winced as he watched Miguel taking out his frustrations on the large blue punching bag, "Geez, what did it ever do to you?"

Miguel's eyes narrowed and he continued to pummel the bag without gloves or taped knuckles, "It's standing in for you..."

"Ouch," Viole grimaced, taking hold of the bag from behind and holding it steady for Miguel. He flinched as Miguel's fists dug into the weighted bag; the blows were rib shattering. Miguel could never hit him that hard, no matter how many "Miguel's-so-stupid" jokes he told. 

"Are they talking about me, Viole? Talking about what a jerk I am?" Miguel grunted over the brutal sound of his fists striking the sand bag. "It's fine you know; they can talk about me all they like. I don't care."

Why do I not quite think that's true? Viole wondered, but said nothing. It was rare that Miguel wanted to talk, so he was going to let him. 

"Freakin' Gatty...damn Shesta... Think they know everything and what's best for everyone. Well they don't! They don't know anymore than I do! But everyone looks up to them like their some sort of generals. Well they screwed up with Lord Dilandau today, didn't they? Not so perfect anymore, are they?" 

"And Shesta going around telling people Lord Dilandau's going to die. He doesn't know half as much as he thinks he does! Why does everyone defend him? Do they think he's right? They should know better than that! And Gatty...screw Gatty! He can kiss my ass! And Guimel, what right's he got to talk about anyone?"

Wonder if he's going to forget I'm here and say something about me? Viole mused. But then again, what more can he say about me that he hasn't already said to my face. Viole supported the bag with his body and he was beginning to ache from the constant impact. 

"Dammit Viole what's after this?" the abuse stopped, and Viole practically sagged in relief. "If anything should happen to Lord Dilandau, where do we go? There will be no other Captain I respect more, so I couldn't possibly stay with the military and I won't go home! I refuse to go back to that place. Those people who call themselves my family, they're horrible. All they care about is money and power and they'll do anything to get it. There are assassinations and false arrests, disappearances, and forced marriages. I won't go back there ever!"

Oh Miguel... Viole peered around the edge of the sand bag to see that Miguel had slid down onto his bottom and sat straddle-legged on the floor with his head bowed. He came around and took a seat next to Miguel. "Nobody said you had to go back. If something ever happened and somehow we survived, we'd stick together you and me. We could...go back to my place. If you like a lot of howling, squealing woman that like to dress you up in ruffles and lace, call you pet names, and will no doubt have vapors over my return." Viole shuddered thinking about his family home. His mother and sisters would eat him alive if he ever went back.

"But Miguel, nothing's going to happen, ever."

"That's a naive outlook, Viole."

"Yeah, so? I'm 15, I can be naive and so can you!"

Miguel glared at him, "Is it possible for you to take anything seriously?" 

Viole looked to be contemplating his statement, then shook his head with a grin, "Nope, nothing at all."

Miguel groaned and buried his head in his hands. Viole chuckled lightly and laid a hand on Miguel's back, "Miguel, of course I take things seriously, but there are some times you just have to lay back, let things happen, find something that amuses you about it. If a person's serious all the time he'll go crazy. Ok, Lord Dilandau's down, but when have you ever known him to stay down for long?"

"Never," Miguel whispered, "but this is different Viole. You saw him. Gods, what if Shesta is right... stupid Shesta, damn him for putting this thought in my head. Damn Gatty for not saying Shesta was lying. Damn him for dismissing me like I was wrong."

"Miguel, Shesta's scared. He was there when it happened and he was still freaking out. Of course he's going to say some pretty bleak things. Everyone kind of understood that and kind of got a little frustrated at the fact that you didn't. You're upset too and in the confusion it was overlooked. Look, we'll probably have a group talk after this and everyone will apologize to everyone else. And we'll go see Lord Dilandau and bring him his maps to work on while he's laying up in the clinic. He's really good you know. He draws better than I do and I only had to show him how to smear coal, and mix paints once. My crazy mother would love him. She has this thing about children having artistic talents, either you play an instrument, you sing, you dance, or you paint. I'm tone deaf with two left dancing shoes, so I learned to draw."

Miguel sighed deeply.

"Yeah, I'm getting a little off topic. I know I'm getting on your nerves. I know in a minute you're gonna say, 'Shut up Viole, I want a new partner.'"

"Shut up Viole..."

Viole nodded with knowing smirk.

"..and I don't want a new partner."

Viole blinked, huh? Did Miguel skip a page in the script? This was the part when he told Viole to get lost. 

"My gods, is that all it takes to get you to shut up?" Miguel actually snickered. 

Viole nodded, still speechless.

"What will you do now that I know your secret?"

Viole shook his head.

"Ok, this is just plain creepy. Speak."

"So anyways, I was thinking of teaching Lord Dilandau how to use watercolor. It's a really relaxing activity and hours can go past before you even realize it. I mean after all this there's no way Lord Folken is going to let him do anything or go anywhere for a long time. We may even have to be given a new name, because the dragon will probably be captured before we can get back into action, and they'll have something else for us to do. Hey, maybe they'll let us join the new-world expeditions, huh? Wouldn't that be fun? We can discover and conquer in the name of Zaibach and have history books about us with all our names mentioned. I mean being war heroes is one thing, but come on, you know those history books will say Dilandau Albatou and his Dragonslayers...and maybe they'll mention Gatty's name once, but the rest of us, hah!"

Miguel sputtered and Viole cackled wickedly, "Had you going there, didn't I?"

"I should have known better."

Viole dimpled, "Yeah, but you didn't." He nudged Miguel with his elbow, "Do you feel better?" 

Miguel blew a lock of straight mahogany hair from his eyes, "I guess."

"You wanna go see about Lord Dilandau?"

There was a short pause where both Miguel and Viole stared off into empty space, then, "Yeah... yeah, lets go." 

They both climbed to their feet and Viole slung a friendly arm around Miguel's shoulders. Miguel rolled his eyes and groaned in annoyance at Viole's show of affection.

"Oh grunt and groan all you want, but we all know you love me. You admitted to it yourself."

"And I was half out-of-my-mind when I did it..." Miguel murmured. "What the hell was I thinking about?"

"I don't know partner, but maybe I can help you figure it out by reenacting the scene. Ok, first I came in and you were standing there punching..."

Miguel massaged a single temple with one hand, he felt a headache coming on.  
  


*******************************************************************************************************************************

(Imagine this is in italics, lol).

*You had better not let Them catch you doing that.*

They won't..unless someone tells Them and I don't think anyone around here is going to care too much about what I do during my study hours. I know the material already!

*I don't see why you bothered with it in the first place. We're captains now, we don't need non-fiction books and homework. We should train more! Dilandau we have a little time before our recruit candidates get here, lets play with our daggers.*

I want to draw.

*How many beatings are you willing to take before you give up that stupid habit. Our bottom is starting to bruise! Doodling isn't going to help us win any wars and neither is making up stories to go along with your pictures. Get your head out of the clouds Dilandau; what is WRONG with you? You want Them to mess with us again, don't you? You know They don't like it when you do other things...*

I know...but... I just feel so empty when I behave in the way they want me to, like there's nothing to me. I see the other soldiers laughing with friends, playing games, talking to women. They all seem so happy. To be happy I think you have to do more than just fight and think about fighting all the time.

*But we are happiest when we fight. We like the power and the feeling of being the best. We are the best, and we love what we do.*

You are happiest when we fight... 

*What is this? What IS wrong with you? You've been strange with me lately...not talking as much and when you do you say odd things. We like to fight, you like to fight.*

There's a difference between what one likes to do, and what one happens to do well. 

*You are the reason why They hurt us. They want me to shape you, Dilandau, and you aren't cooperating anymore. What's happening to our relationship... You're slipping away from me Dilan, and I'm starting to feel lonely. I don't like it. Don't you like me anymore?* 

Of course I like you, I just don't...agree with you all the time anymore. You're...sometimes you tell me to do really awful things. Things that aren't necessary for our success or survival. You like to hurt people. 

*It's the only way they learn.*

That's the way we learned.

*Precisely, look at where we are now, at the top of it all! I want to help others be better, just like you do, and we only know of one way to teach. We know it works, why not use it?*

That what They would like for us to do.

*So?*

Never mind. You wouldn't understand.

*You're right, I don't understand you at all. Finish up that sketch, it's time to review possible troops for our cause. Did you set the criterion?*

No one older than us because it will be harder to gain their respect, no veteran because we don't want to deal with learned bad habits. 

*Good to know you can still DO something useful. Come on, we'll be late.*

  
  


The large gymnasium was full of young soldiers ranging from the ages of 12 to 20. Some of them had served before coming from noble households where they were part of the family guard, the others were green as weeds. Dilandau moved out into the room to stand among the other captains. He ignored the leers and hostile glances he was being given as he watched the recruits demonstrate their skills in duel matches with one another. 

He was 13, a newly appointed commander, and ready to pick and train a special team that was to be stationed aboard the new floating fortress, Vione, designed and run by the Strategos himself. Of course they were jealous of him, and he felt pretty sure a lot of them hated him for what he was and what he was rumored to be. It was foolish to hate someone you hadn't truly met yet, and Dilandau didn't want to work with foolhardy people...

*So we give them good reason to hate us. Then they won't be foolish for their feelings.*

You would say something like that.

*Hmm... Look at that one, the dark haired one. What is his name?*

Miguel Lavariel. He's a noble, look at his swordsmen ship. I can already pick out 10 things wrong with it... 

*But look at him, at the gleam in his eyes... He loves the fight, and he shows no anxiety. Confidence and drive are good qualities. I want him.*

We only get to pick 6!

*You pick 3; I pick 3!*

Fine... how about that blond one?

*The one with the bowl cut? Oh please, he's dropped his sword at least twice.*

Yes, but he's still in the fight. Each time he's lost the sword he's found some resourceful way to keep the other man from knocking him and calling the fight for his own.

*He's fighting a bumbling idiot.*

I want him.

*Gah!* 

The soldiers tackled and touched blades with one another trying to pretend they were not being watched, and that they were not nervous. There were ones out three with obvious skill and cunning, ones that needed to reconsider their occupation, and some that could be worked with and shaped. Dilandau preferred the ones that showed potential but were the glowing pentacles of the demonstration.

*I chose gems and I have my 3... you still don't have a third. Shall I choose for you?*

No...no..I'm sure there's... he trailed off as his eyes fell upon a blond candidate offering a hand down to the boy he'd just knocked down. His opposition was much larger than he, and seemed awestruck by the blond's talent. The blond, at his bested opponents insistence, began to teach the other his moves.

Him. I want him.

*I think he has been the only good choice you've made today.*

So glad you approve. He stepped from the line of captains after he'd checked the last name off on his roster. "Where are you going?" another captain asked him, he was young, maybe 17.

"I've seen enough. I've made my decisions."

"But they haven't even gotten to..."

Dilandau stared at the boy until he was silent. He always found it funny when people shrunk under his gaze. Was it the color of them, or the expression in them? Either way it worked to his advantage, he didn't have to come up with epigrams he just had to glare at people. 

*Lazy ass.* 

Well if you were better with the witty stuff...

*So now you're joking with me. You haven't joked with me in weeks. You're in a better mood.*

Dilandau sat down on the registration table and folded his arms over his chest and crossed his feet. 

Perhaps I am.... I'm...kind of looking forward to meeting with our new troops. Think they'll like us?

*Who cares if they like us?*

Right... ok. 

*A Captain cannot be friends with his soldiers.*

That doesn't mean they can't like us. 

*Did we like any of our teachers?*

They were mean and sadistic, how could we? But a Captain can't behave in that way. His troops are supposed to like him, and wanna do things for him. What about all those books we read? All of those Captains had crews that would die for them. I would never die for Master Kraus, or Marion, or Dalton, or Sandrem. We can't be like them.

*Dilandau...*

Look, I'll listen to you if you have any good suggestions and advice...but I'm gonna do this leader thing on my own. 

*What the...*

I've been thinking things through, and you're always telling me I'm the brains, I've got the skill, you're the drive. Well maybe I have my own drive, and...

*You're saying you don't need me? You can't not need me! What will you do without me? I'm a part of you, you can't separate yourself from me!*

I'm not going to, but I don't have to listen to everything you say. I can ignore you.

*Ignore me? You would do that? You'd stop talking to me, and pretend I'm not here? You'd really leave me alone like that?* 

Dilandau felt it best to remain quiet.

*Don't leave me alone!*

"The Captains have all turned in their rosters, line up and they will call the names of those they have chosen. We appreciate all of your efforts, if you are not chosen today, remember there are more platoons that still need fresh soldiers and you will all still be candidates for those regiments."

Dilandau was last to call the names of his soldiers, and he saw the looks of surprise on the faces of the recruits when he stepped forward. They had all seen him on the sidelines surely, but it was then clear they had not thought him to be a Captain. They didn't know who he was...

"Captain Dilandau Albatou of the Dragonslayers Unit..."

He didn't smile as the remaining troops stood a little taller and tried to look more presentable. It seemed his reputation proceeded him. 

"Step forward when I call your names, and follow me immediately afterward we will not stay for the rest of the formalities. I will see to the rest of your paperwork myself. Shesta, Dallet, Miguel, Viole, Anwar, and Gatty."

There were some incredulous gasps, and stares of disbelief. Some of those boys were unworthy for such an honor, surely Dilandau had made some mistake.

Dilandau inspected each boy that stood in front of him, then nodded for them to follow him as he left he gymnasium. These boys would be his Elite and he would train them to be as perfect as he was. He would be one of the great Captains he read about and for once he was going to do it all on his own.

*Don't leave me alone...*

The voice was getting weaker as it continued to scream and he continued to ignore it. Soon it would be gone. Did he want it gone? It had been his only friend for a very long time and sometimes he enjoyed the company. He sighed inwardly and although it steered him wrong often...

I won't leave you alone.

*Jerk.*

Yeah...yeah... But I really meant what I said, I'm gonna do this my way. I don't want you criticizing me or I'll ignore you again.

*Fine.*

He led his new troops into a small room, "You Six are the first to join my Unit, in time there will be others...but you will be my Elite. Is there anyone here that would prefer not to follow me?"

All six boys shook their heads. 

"All right then, I'll show you your barracks, and tomorrow we will all be introduced to the Vione and the Strategos. Come on."

"Yes Lord Dilandau."

Lord Dilandau...

*Sounds nice.*

Yeah, yeah it does.   


(Imagine the italics going away now).

  
  
  


Someone with a deep voice was talking about something boring. He forced his eyes open a crack and shut them almost immediately against the harsh white light that greeted them. He moaned at bit and tried to turn onto his side away from the light he could now sense a vague glow from though his eyelids. His torso ached and he felt so tired and weak. Again.

When was this going to end? What was the point of waking up each time if it seemed nothing was going to get better. 

"He's coming to," a woman's voice said.

"Dilandau? Can you open your eyes for me?"

Folken. 

He tried to tell Folken to turn down that damn light and he might attempt it, but his words caught in his throat. He realized then that something was over his face. He commanded a weak arm to rest weak fingers on the contraption covering his mouth and nose. Oxygen mask, had to be. He pulled at it feebly, and he relaxed his hand when he felt it being removed. 

The bright light was turned down, and slowly he opened his eyes. He was in the infirmary again. Which one of his Elite had brought him in, he wondered? He tried to remember what he had been doing earlier... He remembered waking up that morning feeling like sludge from the bottom of the sea, he remembered talking to Folken, and he remembered making...maps? Had he made maps? Why? 

The dull pounding in his head grew as he tried to force himself to remember. "Dilandau, do you know where you are?"

Dilandau rolled his eyes in annoyance, and Folken chuckled. "Well I guess I don't have to ask if you're okay."

"What happened to me Folken? Why am I here... again?"

Folken's face looked drawn, and woman in a white coat appeared beside him, "Hello Dilandau, I'm Marie."

Dilandau's eyes narrowed, "What's going on? I'm dying, aren't I? I thought so! How much time do I have left?"

The woman dubbed Marie laughed and gave Folken a look that Folken answered with a long-suffering sigh. "You're not dying Dilandau...unless you want to. You've had a mild form of heart attack."

Dilandau blinked.

"It was brought on by the chemical imbalances in your body, and Marie and I are in the process of coming up with a solution for this problem. We'll no doubt have one by tomorrow morning, but to ensure your health I'd like to put you back under until then."

"Put me under?" He saw long needles and sinister sneers. "No way, nobody..."

"Calm down Dilandau, I'll inject it via IV, you'll never feel or see a needle."

Dilandau relaxed a bit, "I'll only be out until tomorrow?"

Folken nodded.

"And just what kind of 'solution' are you two working out? And why is she helping you? Does she know? Did you tell her?"

"Dilandau I needed to consult with another professional and to do that she needed to be informed of the situation. We're looking into certain minerals with mood stabilizing qualities, since that seems to be the main problem."

"Okay... and why has this taken so long for you to come up with that, it doesn't seem like a very difficult conclusion to come to."

"We're looking into the most used minerals that have been tested and have fewer side effects."

"Side effects?"

"We'll tell you more when you wake tomorrow Dilandau. Your blood pressure is rising, please calm yourself. I'm going to prepare the sedative, and I'll be back."

"Folken?" Dilandau closed his eyes for a moment. With the way he felt at the moment he didn't quite think he was going to need a sedative to put him to sleep until the next day. 

"Yes?"

"My Dragonslayers... Shesta... I think something happened, and I scared him. Can you find them for me first? Just so they won't think I'm dead or something..." Oh his head hurt; he hoped whatever he'd said had been coherent.

"That won't be too hard to do, they're outside the curtain. I'll call them in," Folken rose.

"And I'll get your candy," Marie winked and smiled at Dilandau, and vanished from sight.

Dilandau didn't like that woman. 

"Lord Dilandau!" 

If he had the energy he would have jumped at Shesta's exclamation, Shesta, Gatty, and Viole pressed themselves against the silver railing of the bed. Viole actually leaned down onto the bed and rested his elbows on the blankets. Behind them Dallet, Guimel, and Miguel peaked over their shoulders at him.

"Are you ok?"

"How are you?"

"You think Folken has a thing for that chic doctor?"

"Viole!"

"What? It was an honest question. Come on, back me up Miguel!" Viole tossed a look over his shoulder at the scowling brunette. 

"Lord Dilandau, Lord Folken said you requested us. Is there anything we can do for you?" Gatty hesitated at first, but then reached and took one of his hands.

Dilandau shook his head, "I don't exactly remember what happened earlier, but if I scared anybody... I didn't mean to." He gazed at Shesta briefly before closing his eyes again. It was hard to keep them open, and he was beginning to wonder if Folken had already started with the depressants.

"You scared the shit out Shes," Viole laughed. "But hey, I knew you were gonna be fine. I calmed everyone down and..."

"Lord Dilandau, can we kill him?" Miguel begged.

"Oh pay no attention to Miguel, he likes me you know?" Viole's pixie-ish face was alight with mirth and Dilandau gave a light smile. Viole always managed to get one out of him.

"We all know he does," Guimel snorted amused by the lines of frustration forming on Miguel's forehead. 

"How long are you going to be down, Lord Dilandau? We can take care of everything while you recuperate," Shesta steered the conversation away from Viole's silliness.

"I don't know exactly, but Folken wants to try something and I'm going to be asleep until tomorrow. I wanted you guys to know I'm ok before that happens," Dilandau said softly. "And I need you to keep up whatever you've been doing. Second and Third String look good, but get them to spend more time on the flight simulators."

"Yes sir."

"Good..."

"Dilandau, it's time," Folken's deep voice interrupted what Dilandau was going to say next. 

Dilandau sighed, "Fine. Take care of my troops, Gatty."

"Yes sir," Gatty released his hand. 

His slayers were moving away from his bed, and he gazed back at the ceiling again. He could hear feet shuffling about and curtains shifting. His sharp ears caught someone hissing in a low voice, "You make one slip up Strategos and we'll have your head."

Dilandau chuckled.

His soldiers liked him... his way had worked after all.

And he had no one to gloat to...

"All right Dilandau, you're about to get very drowsy," Marie said and he turned his head to spy her near his IV. 

Before she could say anything else a heavy sleep overtook him, and he was lost again to a world of dreams.  
*******************************************************************************************************************************  


Folken rolled his eyes as there was yet another knock on the door of his lab. He knew it wasn't Marie, she was with Dilandau already administering the first round of therapy they'd mixed up. Together both scientists had decided to try the boy on a cocktail of a mood stabilizer and an anti-anxiety serum they would inject intravenously at first. By the time the drug took effect Folken would be finished with the capsules Dilandau could take orally. 

Folken himself would observe the boy for side effects and decide on what could be done to curb them whether it be an adjusted dosage or maybe to try a different drug altogether. 

He prayed it worked. Dilandau was deteriorating before his eyes. He knew there was no way to reverse the process if Dilandau wasn't meant to survive his Separation, but he certainly could slow it down and try to make it as painless as possible. He didn't like to see people in pain. After he found a way to stop the Dragonslayer Captain from sliding into insanity and killing himself with his overactive hormones, he'd have to find a way to preserve his body. The boy was losing weight and the ill-feelings he was constantly suffering from were discouraging.

He'd been over that with Marie as well, she suggested a change in diet and schedule. Folken suggested she be the one to enforce that on Dilandau. She'd glared at him and told him to be a man. 

The knock came again and he sighed heavily, "What is it?"

"Lord Folken," the door opened and a herald stood in the doorway, "I have a message from General Adelphos."

Folken stiffened, "Read it to me please."

"May I...?" the herald looked through the doorway with a frown, and Folken sighed. He turned the fire off from under the beaker that held a pale colored liquid carbamazepine that was slowly solidifying into fine crystals.

"Come in," Folken said and gave the man his undivided attention as he began to read from the tan parchment he'd just unrolled.

"The Emperor has ordered the conquest of Freid. I am en route to Astoria with our forces."

"The Four Generals are coming in person?" Folken whispered. He shut his eyes as he realized, "They must have located the Power Spot."

"The Destiny Prognostication Engine has detected the dragon's shadow. Capture it before the operation commences. That is all," the man refolded the parchment and stood at attention to be dismissed.

"Dismissed," Folken said. "Close the door on your way out, please."

Once he was alone again he went back to his beaker, turning the fire back on. Emperor Dornkirk was ordering the capture of the dragon...but Dilandau and his Dragonslayers were in no shape to go after anything. It would take a week for Dilandau to show improvement if he was going to show any at all. He would have to find someone else to do the job. 

And he'd have to make sure that someone else would do the job with finesse because if they were going to invade Freid they would have to use Astoria's harbor as a staging ground. He didn't need anyone who might upset the King with senseless damages. 

As the last of the liquid crystalized Folken turned off the heat and using his forceps he extracted the granules, measuring them carefully, then dropping them into small capsules and sealing them closed. 

He put away his finished work and began cleaning up, in the morning he would wake Dilandau, select a replacement team to retrieve the dragon, and get back to his business with King Aston. 

But for now, he was going to bed for even overworked geniuses needed their rest.  
  
  
*******************************************************************************************************************************

Progress with Dilandau was slow but promising. His body had rejected Folken's intensive treatment program at first, but after a few days it started taking to the new chemicals. He got tired easily, he was a little unsteady at times, and his appetite still hadn't returned to normal, but he was mentally stable. There were no more anxiety attacks, no more instances of breathlessness, or rapid heartbeat. 

Now, if Folken could only get Dilandau to eat properly and sleep regularly without the aid of drugs. He glanced over at the boy staring serenely at the screen of a navigational computer before him with a light smile of fondness. 

They were inside the heart of the Vione, the control room where Folken spent most of his time when he wasn't in his lab. He had been teaching Dilandau the uses of every machine and how to read its data for the past few days. They monitored the position of Zaibach convoys, guymelefs, and fortresses. They sent orders or detailed information to different posts via computer link. Folken felt like he had his own personal assistant. He didn't think it would be in the boy's best interest to attend practices with his soldiers, since watching action usually resulted in the release of testosterone in males. Dilandau became more of an overlord reading statistics from the battle simulators his troops had used and getting reports from his Elite team of the progress of the group. He would dictate the curriculum to Gatty who would then make sure it was executed properly by the others. 

"Are you still considering putting that sleaze Martin Isaac and his team over the capture of the dragon in Astoria?" Dilandau asked Folken without looking at him. He was frowning at something on the dark blue screen. 

Folken didn't miss a beat, "Yes. Though Captain Isaac's social skills and manners are lacking, he is a sensational pilot and soldier and his squadron is well trained."

Dilandau had not been pleased at all when he'd learned the dragon's shadow was detected and he was not going to be allowed to join the chase. The pale boy straightened and turned to meet Folken's eyes. 

"He will not succeed."

"Do you know of anyone else who may be better qualified for the job then?" Folken's question had a sarcastic feel to it, but it called for an answer that might prove to be helpful. Dilandau had turned out to be quite the little strategist. He could place pawns in all of the correct position and predict the outcome. He also knew how to shift things to his advantage. Folken thought the Madoushi had made a mistake in making Dilandau a soldier; they had in their hands a brilliant Strategos. "Your Slayers?"

"They certainly would do a better job... but since this mission is in town it will have to be a solo operation. My men fight well together, and in small groups, but the simulations of single person combat against what we have programed from previous battles with the Escaflowne show they have much room for improvement. I won't let them get hurt doing something I don't think they have good odds of winning. And even though I see their loss, any one of my Elite would still come closer than Isaac."

"Dilandau have you seen his skill?" Folken really believed the boy was letting his dislike of the man cloud his judgment.

"I've seen enough of him to know I could beat Isaac in combat."

"I can't send you Dilandau."

"I know," Dilandau sighed. He ran a hand through his silvery hair and pulled a chair from under the desk the navigational screen rested on, and sat. "I'm getting better Folken, but I'm not getting better fast enough. You won't even let me start training again until tomorrow."

"It's for your own good, Dilandau," Folken said noting the boy's waning complexion. "Would you like something to eat? I could do for something myself."

"I still feel sick to my stomach Folken and I'm positive your drugs are the problem." Dilandau folded his arms on the metal desk and rested his head on them for a moment. 

"Go ahead and send Isaac; he's probably the best you have right now. Though I doubt he'll catch the dragon, at least we'll get better recordings of the Escaflowne in action. Then I can reprogram the simulators for my Dragonslayers, so they can be more prepared for next time."

Folken raised a brow, "Dilandau..."

There was a slight cough from behind them and both officials turned to see Martin Isaac just behind them. Judging from the blush in his cheeks, he'd heard everything Dilandau had said. 

Dilandau smirked at the man cheekily, "Greetings Martin... how's the jaw?"

Martin's hands balled into fists at his sides, "Just fine, Captain Albatou. How are you feeling? I've heard you've been ill."

"Much better than you look, Captain," Dilandau said silkily. "What have you been putting on those eyes? They're still as black as the day my Dragonslayer hit you."

Folken rolled his eyes. He glanced at Martin, the areas around his eyes were a bit discolored, but Folken never would have guessed he'd been punched.

Martin averted his eyes from Dilandau to look at Folken, "I received your summons sir."

Folken nodded at him, then shot a look to Dilandau who stood stretching gracefully as a feline. 

"I'll be going now Strategos," Dilandau wiggled his fingers in parting. "Study group in a bit. Oh, and before you bitch, I'll eat something. See ya Marty!"

Teenagers, Folken snorted inwardly. He turned back to Martin ready to give him his new assignment and frowned as he watched the man glare after Dilandau. 

"Captain Isaac?"

"My mission will be to capture the dragon, sir?" Martin asked.

"Yes," Folken said. "The dragon has been located in Astoria and you must be ready at any given moment to be sent in pursuit. Do you accept the task?"

Martin's face was grave with determination, something nasty sparked in his eyes as they darted back in the direction Dilandau had gone. "Yes sir. I'll capture that dragon for Emperor Dornkirk at whatever the cost. I'll do what Captain Albatou cannot."

Folken didn't respond to the man simply nodded and turned away. Martin now had a personal vendetta against Dilandau and Folken hoped it wouldn't cloud his judgment.

Martin left without an official dismissal and Folken checked his time device. If a dragon was to be captured in the heart of Astoria, it was time for Folken to return to his negotiations with the King. He'd been neglecting his duties slightly to care for Dilandau, but no more. The boy was doing fine and Folken had other work to do.

It had been nearly a week since he'd seen his brother last and he wondered how he was faring? He would know soon enough when the dragon was recaptured.   
  
*******************************************************************************************************************************

The day had been long and hard. After showing off his skills in the Escaflowne for King Aston and finishing an uncomfortably proper meal, Van felt at peace out on the balcony of the palace. He practiced a simple kata as he balanced on the stone ledge careful to keep his balance. The fall wouldn't be a pleasant one, even for one with wings, because by the time he'd expanded them he'd be a pancake. He danced with his invisible opponent swinging his sword high above his head and thrusting with vigor. Suddenly the shadow warrior he fought had a face...a lovely face with the most startling wine flavored iris's he'd ever seen. He almost dropped his sword and stumbled as he lost his footing. 

He blinked and the apparition was gone. Dammit. He shook his sweaty black hair from his eyes furiously and tightened his grip on the pommel of his sword. That creature with the lovely face his body couldn't will itself to fight was out to kill him. Whatever this infatuation was with Dilandau, he needed to be over it fast. 

Maybe if he spent more time with Hitomi... but then the girl was obviously head-over-heels for Schezar, who currently had his eyes set on a certain Astorian princess named Millerna. 

He then ruled out Hitomi completely, even if she wasn't awestruck by Schezar he didn't think he'd be very interested in her. She was too... girly. He didn't deal with tears and raging emotions and hormones well. She seemed to be one of those clingy females that would say things like, "Oh Van..." in a dramatic sigh that would make him cringe. He needed a companion that was tougher, stronger... 

He'd meet someone some day he guessed, he was young yet. He sighed, these were all things he'd like to talk about with his brother... if he still had one that was. Zaibach had stolen Folken away from him and morphed him into a monster. 

Van frowned, thoughts going back to Dilandau. Had he been stolen away from loved ones too, and warped into the insane creature lusting after Van's blood that he was now? It made his skin crawl to think about just how many families Zaibach may have destroyed.

He lifted his sword and began his kata again with a vicious newfound fury. He whirled and feinted, parried, and sideswiped encouraged by the swift ringing sound of his soft cutting through the night air. 

"Van."

Van stopped his routine and turned to see who had called to him. Allen stood in the doorway staring at him, "I'll spar with you."

He frowned, Allen was interrupting his catharsis. He didn't want a corporeal opponent right then, what he was fighting then wore the faces of many people and he couldn't let Allen's face become on of them. He averted his eyes, "I'm not looking for a partner."

"Mind if I watch then, maybe I could give you a few pointers?" Allen offered moving from the doorway and studying him. 

Van sighed it didn't look like he was going to be getting rid of the knight anytime soon, "Fine." 

Allen gave a closed-lipped smile and leaned against the wall nodding his head for Van to begin his free-lance kata again. 

It was harder to find that righteous anger that had fueled him before with someone watching, but taking a deep breath he started his routine again. 

He lost himself in a world of taunting phantasms that he hacked to pieces for he didn't know how long, before soft clapping broke his trance and nearly toppled off the ledge. Allen reached an arm out to steady him as he turned to see who their unexpected visitor was. 

Princess Millerna emerged from the shadows with a pretty smile on her lips. "Good show Van."

Van nodded at her curtly looking between the blond princess and the blond knight uncomfortably. He felt like a third wheel. "Thanks....um.... I'll be going now." He hurried past both the blonds who watched him strangely as he jogged down the stone stairs.

If Allen wanted to have an affair with the Princess, Van did not want to be a witness. He heard footsteps on the stairs, someone was coming toward him. He paused for a moment raising an eyebrow when he recognized Hitomi's distinctive features. 

"What are you doing still up?" Van asked the girl whose cheeks were flushed with alcohol. The girl smiled giddily.

"Couldn't sleep, too much energy. What are you doing up? Have you been drinking too?"

Van shook his head and moved to pass the girl, stopping again as a thought hit him. She was going up to the balcony and she was going to see Allen and Millerna. He didn't too particularly like the fact that Hitomi had a crush on Allen, and the scene would kill her crush, but he didn't want to see it hurt her feelings either. "I wouldn't go up there if I was you."

Hitomi snorted and waved him off, "I need some air."

Van shrugged, "I'd wait until later."

"Why?" now he was sparking the girl's curiosity. Perhaps he had gone about this in the wrong way. He sighed and shook his head. He was no one's chivalrous knight and he had done his good deed for the moment. He'd given her enough of a hint that something she might not want to see was up there. He'd done his job.

"Good night Hitomi," Van said continuing on down the stairs, "but don't say I didn't warn you!"

He went straight to the room given to him by King Aston and began to prepare for bed. He had just crawled in bed when Merle crashed into his room to drag him out.

"Hitomi's been kidnaped!"

"What?" Van blinked. 

"She's been kidnaped! A bunch of geckos took her and they went off in a submarine into the canals." 

Van blinked rubbing his face with a groan, that girl was beginning to be more trouble than she was worth. He pulled himself out of bed and went to get dressed again. He supposed he should hunt up Allen and ask for his help. Who knew who the geckos were working for? But then again, he wondered what Hitomi would think of him if he came to rescue her himself.

Would she smile at him the way she did at Allen? Could anyone smile at Van that way even though he wasn't tall, blond, or pretty? 

Van would find out that night. He knew for a fact all knights in shining armor were not handsome, but only the handsome ones got the girls...like Allen. But then did he really want girls? 

A pale image entered his mind and he shook it away.

Hitomi needed rescuing - and besides that pale image was much too beautiful for the likes of him anyway.

"Come on Merle, I'll need your help."

*******************************************************************************************************************************

"We are doing everything in our power to assist with the search. But Astoria is a big country, and there is a limit to the number of soldiers we can spare to find a single guymelef," King Aston stated sitting with his arms crossed over his portly form in one of the Vione's outer conference rooms.

"Then allow us to conduct the search ourselves." Folken stood by the window peering out into the night. He was tired and trying not to let it show. Between lab work, paper work, and verbal negotiations he was ready to collapse, and sleep for two weeks. 

"We'll use our own troops to find Escaflowne."

"If you don't mind I'd like to know why you're so interested in that guymelef?" King Aston asked his voice steady, but his eyes betraying his discomfort at being inside the imposingly dim room lit only by the minuscule blue-white light of a small gas lantern.

"I see," Folken said giving a small smile to the King. There was a single knock at the door. "Enter."

Two soldiers stepped through, "Lord Folken! Our men report that the dragon is caught in our net."

Folken's stomach did a back flip. It was almost time to test Captain Isaac's abilities. Dilandau was so certain the man wouldn't be able to complete his task, but Folken prayed he could. He didn't wish to upset Dilandau, but if Isaac failed the Madoushi would become very curious as to why Dilandau wasn't sent on the mission instead. Folken did not want to add dealing with the Madoushi to his repertoire of things to do. They'd been very quiet lately, as if they felt guilty for ruining Dilandau. But he knew they wouldn't stay quiet for long if Emperor Dornkirk lost sight of the dragon their project was supposed to catch. 

If they took Dilandau away again, Folken couldn't guarantee they'd ever bring him back. He glanced over at King Aston, who was looking at him cautiously.

"This shadow graph was taken by one of our lookouts," the soldier who'd delivered the news handed Folken a carbon-backed slice of paper. Folken barely glanced at it; he knew what it was. He passed the picture over to the King to let him see.

"It would seem that we don't have to search for it after all," Folken commented lightly. 

"We didn't think it would be that disguised," King Aston said bowing his head into his hands. His tow-headed royal assistant held the shadow graph out for Folken to take it back.

Folken took the slice of paper back calmly and stared at King Aston expectantly.

"Send out the garrison at once," he instructed his assistant who scurried away to complete the command. "I had no idea it was already in Palas. Folken, it's time for you to keep your end of the treaty. My capitol is in danger. I request the dispatch of Zaibach soldiers."

"You are a formidable king, Your Majesty," Folken said respectfully. He turned to the solider at his side, "Wake Captain Isaac."

"Um...that won't be necessary," the soldier said softly.

"What do you mean?" Folken asked.

"He's already on his way down, he left the docking bay a moments ago," the soldier whispered to him discreetly. "Lord Dilandau is on his way to the control room."

Folken cursed silently to himself; Dilandau was supposed to be in bed. He excused himself from the King's presence claiming he had to oversee the units being dispatched.

He walked swiftly down the corridor to the control room with his robes rustling about his legs like skirts. He entered the control room to find it alive with action. There was a man at every machine, and Dilandau sat in Folken's big chair with a mug of something that steamed. Gatty and Miguel stood on either side of him gazing about the room.

"Dilandau," Folken said as he approached the boy sprawled comfortably in his chair, "I thought you were in bed."

"I thought you were entertaining the King, so I came to spectate...er...supervise the event." Dilandau smiled evilly. "You thought I would miss Martin's big debut?"

Folken blinked trying to calm his nerves. Perhaps he needed to start sipping the sedatives he'd been giving Dilandau, maybe he'd feel better. 

"Turn the two way radio on, I want to in communication with Captain Isaac," Folken ordered.

"Yes sir!"

"Captain Isaac?"

"I'm en route to the capitol sir. I've seen all of the information, and I will bring the dragon in," the man's voice crackled over the transmitter, but the building excitement was not lost on anyone's ears.

"All right Captain, just remember you are in a residential area. Do not involve the citizenry."

"I'll do my best not to," Captain Isaac agreed, but said it much too swiftly for Folken to belief it held any verity. 

The transmission was broken then much to Folken's surprise. "Ooh..." Dilandau cooed, "insubordination. Why do I get the feeling King Aston is about to be very angry with us?"

Folken took hold of the mug Dilandau was drinking from and sniffed its contents. He was certain the boy was drinking some sort of alcohol. 

"It's not vino; it's those kava-kava leaves Dr. Marie gave me. You guys told me not to drink, remember?" Dilandau rolled his eyes and snatched back his mug. 

"I'm glad to hear you've listened to something we've said to you," Folken said laconically. "Amplify ground imaging, lets see what's going on down there."

"Oh good, now the show begins," Dilandau grinned.  
  
*******************************************************************************************************************************

Van was patting himself of the back as he walked the Escaflowne to shore with Hitomi in it's slight curled palm. The look on her face when she'd realized it was Van that had come to rescue her was priceless. She'd been shocked and maybe a little pleased. She smiled at him after staring at him for a moment, and he lifted her from the tiny gecko infested sub. In the moonlight with her eyes alight with gratefulness she actually looked...nice... to his eyes. 

Maybe she wasn't so bad to have around after all. 

He stepped onto shore, cringing a bit at Merle's shrill shriek of his name. He watched the cat-girl skillfully climb up the trunk of the Escaflowne into its hand and unloose Hitomi's bonds. He smirked as the two girls bickered amongst themselves while he tried to get his bearings. He wondered how far away from the castle they were, and how he could return with the Escaflowne discreetly.

His eyes flew open wide as he heard the scream of a guymelef engine and he whirled to see a large blue guymelef charging at him at full speed. My gods!

He quickly maneuvered the Escaflowne out of the way, who was this? Dilandau? Could it be Dilandau?

But wasn't his guymelef red?

"King of Fanelia yield!" a gruff voice called to him from the enemy guymelef. In the name of Zaibach I take you and your guymelef prisoner."

Not this again...sorry brother, but you won't have me tonight! 

"No!" Van shouted to the enemy and prepared to make a swift getaway. He couldn't stage a fight here in the city, especially not with Merle and Hitomi with him. 

"I tried to make it easy.... but if you want to play rough so be it!" The blue guymelef charged at him again, this time releasing its liquid metal blades and slashing at Van. Van kept retreating further onto the city street, surely the man would stop when he saw Van was entering the city. 

He was sorely mistaken. The blue guymelef leapt through the air landing behind Van and whirled wildly swinging his blade and destroying a building in the process. Van skipped out of the way, which only seemed to anger the man. He shot out a wave of liquid metal to snare Van, but missed and struck more buildings just behind Van.

"Stop moving around!" the man growled.

Van continued to dodge and weave avoiding the man's attacks and making him angrier. The dust and debris from the crumbling stone of buildings choked Van and his passengers and the smell of smoke filled the air. 

"Van! The city's burning!"

Van whirled just missing the downward swipe of a blade to see that a fire had started in several of the demolished structures...lanterns and candles had been overturned. He jumped and ducked as the blue guymelef continued to attack him oblivious to the damage he was creating and the fire that was slowly spreading in the city square.

"Stop this you fool! We can't fight here!" Van shouted to crazed Zaibach soldier.

"Yield!" the man screamed.

"Idiot...he's crazy," Van sputtered. He had to lead this man out of the city before he destroyed what was left of it. Seeing an opening he leapt catching the Escaflowne's foot on the guymelef's shoulders. As the white guymelef took to the air it shifted into its dragon's shape for flight. He held onto the reigns tight and looked to see how Merle and Hitomi were faring. They rode on the dragon's back the same way they would a horse. Both peered behind them at the blazing city of Palas. The blue guymelef was below them and looked ready to come after them when...

"Allen!" Hitomi cheered. 

Scherazade had appeared in the midst of the flame holding its long shiny sword out, blocking the path of the Zaibach guymelef. 

Van sighed in relief, thank the gods. He couldn't fight with Merle and Hitomi with him and he didn't know of a safe place to put them down. "Is everyone all right?" he asked gruffly.

"Yes Lord Van," Merle said sweetly, smiling at him.

"Yeah," Hitomi said with a nod, she was still gazing back into the flames. "Good bye Allen."

  
  


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"I told you he'd botch it up," Dilandau snickered looking at Folken in amusement. "And he's destroyed Palas in the process of his screw up."

"Quiet Dilandau..." Folken murmured.

"So what now, Folken? The dragon got away... You gonna send Martin after it again, or will you let me get back to doing my job?" Dilandau batted his lashes in a charming manner that made Folken want to strangle him.

"We'll see Dilandau," Folken said. That messy display of Captain Isaac's was sure to have caught the attention of every important Zaibach official and Sorcerer. There was no way to cover the destruction of the Astorian capitol... and everyone was going to ask why Dilandau was not there. 

He'd kept the boy's condition as quiet as possible, but if he didn't get Dilandau back into action soon there would be trouble. He didn't want to risk a relapse by sending Dilandau out too soon, but there would be no choice. He couldn't let the Madoushi think anything was wrong. 

"Dilandau, go to bed. You'll need your rest, because tomorrow I want you to fall back into your old routine."

"Yes!"

Folken was unsettled by the eagerness on Dilandau's face. Please don't let me be making a mistake with this...but he was not about to give the Sorcerers any more reasons to torture the young captain again.  
  


*******************************************************************************************************************************

The pale golden locks of her hair glistened in the sun as she parried with her invisible partner. She finally stopped her swordplay to lean over her knees and catch her breath. She wrinkled her nose at the way her sweat dampened clothes clung to her body. She stood up straight and stretched her muscles to give them a cool down. 

One should never end a vigorous training session without cooling down. She stabbed her sword into the grassy ground, not afraid of damaging the blade. She'd just get another one. She would never understand certain people's obsession with keeping weapons polished and shiny all of the time. They would just get soiled again, and there were so many new weapons made daily they was no need to keep using the same old sword every day.

She'd always tried to tell him that.

He never listened.

Dilandau didn't like to listen to her and she'd had to make him. That was how she had gotten them into this wonderful mess. She'd tried to take too much control and General Adelphos hadn't liked it.

He thought she was too blunt, too disobedient, too harsh. How could a soldier be too harsh? She'd shaped those Dragonslayers into something worth giving Alseides to, she'd made them fear their name. 

That was what they had been taught and she had remembered their lessons well and when Dilandau forgot them...she'd reinforced them. Why was she being punished for being a good student? She needed to be out there with him to help him fight. She wanted to feel the exhilaration of battle with him. She wanted to feel the power of taking life in one's own hands. 

Dilandau couldn't do it alone. He couldn't do anything alone.

But neither could she.

She needed him back, which was why she was practicing. She was a woman again, but surely her skill would be good enough to qualify her for the battlefield. They'd have to send her to Dilandau and they would fight together again, side by side. 

It wouldn't be the same, but at least they'd be reunited. 

She'd heard nothing about Dilandau since he left and that made her worry. He hadn't looked well when They had sent him away alone. She reached for him often, looking for his aura. She'd found him once a day after he'd left her; he'd been reaching for her as well. His aura had always been a vivid purple, but when she'd glimpsed it then it was pale. 

He needed her.

She kicked her sword watching in satisfaction as the momentum sent the sword spiraling further into the garden. Damn garden... She hated flowers and butterflies. They reminded her too much of... 

She shook her head, she didn't want to remember that place. She didn't want to think about her Mother, or her older brother. They hadn't cared about her anyway. They had let Them take her. 

They hadn't wanted a little girl.

Allen had always told her when she had done something to annoy him, and Allen had been easily annoyed, that when she was born Mother was to have two boys. Instead she had a boy and a girl, and the boy had died in Mother's belly before Mother ever pushed him out. He claimed she'd sucked up all the nutrients from him in the womb and killed him. After that Father left.

They hadn't wanted a little girl.

Well that was fine with her, because she didn't want to be a little girl anyway. She wanted to play with swords and climb trees, not wear frilly dresses and play with dolls. Mother didn't know what to do with her. 

Then They came. 

She was afraid at first. She hated Them. She still hated Them, but she was also indebted to Them. 

They had given her Dilandau.

They had given her twin brother the life Mother could not.

Then They took him away.

She growled deep in her throat and delivered a punch to the thick barked tree beside her. Her knuckles stung and she brought them to her lips sucking the salty blood from the wounds she didn't look to see.

Her ears perked as they picked up the sound of footsteps in the grass. She turned slowly to face whoever was approaching. She narrowed her eyes and brought her hand from her mouth. 

Three Madoushi stood before her looking tall and grave in their long dark cloaks. 

She didn't speak simply placed both hands on her hips and waited for them to say something. They had come in for a reason.

"You train hard and you fight well girl."

She blinked.

"How would you like to join your brother?"

Her eyes widened, "Dilandau? You'd let me go to him?"

"Zaibach needs your skill."

"Will I be a Dragonslayer?"

"You'll have your own unit."

Her heart soared with pleasure, "And I will be on the Vione with Dilandau?"

There was no immediate answer to that and she didn't press for one. They were going to release her and let her fight. If They didn't put her with Dilandau she would just go and find him when she was free. 

"You will see Dilandau soon enough. Clean up and Jajuka will come to collect you. We have some many preparations to make to get you ready."

"Yes," she bowed her head in respect, and watched as the three men walked back across the grass and vanished among the trees.

She was going to fight; she was getting her own men! She would have her own guymelef, no doubt, and most importantly she could be with Dilandau.

She couldn't help but be a little wary of her sudden good fortune, because it had been handed to her by the Madoushi. She knew she held a double edged sword, and if she wasn't careful, it would cut her. 

She sucked on her bloody knuckles again and began to move her feet to the door. She had to clean up.

She was going to see Dilandau again.   


  


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"That went nicely," the first Sorcerer pushed his large glasses up the bridge of his nose with an index finger. 

"Yes," the second Sorcerer agreed. "How long do you think it will take before we can have her ready?"

"Not long, the girl is strong. She has to be the best subject we've ever had. Producing another warrior from her will not be hard," the third Sorcerer nodded. 

"I fear our Dilandau is not faring well."

"We'll have to bring him back."

"And when we do...she'll be ready to take his place."

  
  
  
  


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**Author's Note: Well that was all 21 pages of Chapter 10... How was it? Please let me know if you: liked it, didn't like it, needs work, etc. I hope you did enjoy it though. Take care, have a great day, and PLEASE review :) **


	12. CHAPTER 11

**Author's Note: Hey, it's me! Yes, this update took a very long time, and I'm sorry :) If it helps any, this chapter`is ridiculously long, lol. Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews. I still get excited right after I post a chapter to see the responses. I don't know how anyone prefers this done...but would anyone like for me to start putting review responses in my author's notes? I know a lot of people do it, and I must admit it makes me feel special when I've reviewed and I see a review response, tee-hee. The thing is, I've never done it before, and I'd feel like I was just being a copy-cat if I started. So...just tell me what you think, and I hope you enjoy the chapter.** 

Chapter 11 

"You have to turn your hips and torso as a unit if you want more power in a linear thrust, Tristan," Dilandau stood in front of the dark haired boy watching his technique. The boy was nervous under his gaze, but obediently demonstrated his reverse punch again. This time Dilandau gave him a tiny shove and rolled his eyes as the boy toppled onto his backside. 

"Center your weight please; try not to lean more to one side." 

He moved on down the line, studying each Slayer's martial arts skill. During certain movements he couldn't differentiate between the Strings because they were all so good. He walked back to his throne and took a seat. 

"Attention!" Dilandau barked. When all of his Slayers stood upright, hands at their sides, and chins in the air, he spoke again. "All right, very good practice today people. Take a lap, then you are dismissed." 

He reclined a bit in his chair as he watched his Dragonslayers proudly. They were in mint condition, and the dragon would not stand a chance in hell against them. He smirked as he thought about the severe dressing down dear Martin had gotten for torching Astoria. The idea actually sounded like a lot of fun to Dilandau, and he might have torched Astoria himself, had he been there. He didn't mention that little tidbit to Folken though. The man didn't need to know everything about him. 

Dilandau stifled a yawn; he was getting sleepy again. It still surprised him how tired he could get after a few hours. If he thought his Elite would let him get away with it, he would take a nap in his chair. It was comfortable enough. 

"Lord Dilandau?" Gatty was at his side as if he'd heard Dilandau's previous thought. "Would you like to rest for a few hours? I can make sure everyone behaves themselves during the off period while you sleep." 

Dilandau couldn't help but be amused by Gatty's behavior. All of his Slayers had been treating him as if he was made of spun glass. They ran ahead of him to open doors, someone had added pillows to his throne, and they always made sure he had cool, fresh water on hand. For breakfast, someone even ran ahead to fix his plates for him. He felt like a King and didn't object to the treatment. It was nice to know one was cared for, very nice. The looks in his Slayers' eyes when he would walk in, see what they had done for him, and nod his approval, made him smile. He didn't know when he'd become so important to them. He knew they respected him, and he knew they worshiped him, but it was different to know they loved him. Love was the only word that could describe their devotion. 

And did he love them back? 

Yes, yes he did. He had always known that. No harm would come to his Slayers as long as he breathed, and now he knew the feelings were mutual. 

"Lord Dilandau?" Gatty's hand was on his arm. He blinked, the room coming back into focus slowly. Had he fallen asleep and not been aware of it? 

"You'll get a crick in your neck if you sleep here," Gatty said softly. "Let me help you to your room, if that's where you care to go." 

Dilandau nodded slightly and allowed Gatty to pull him up. "I have to eat first," Dilandau remembered sleepily. 

"No problem," Gatty said placing a hand on the small of his back and urging him along. Shesta, Miguel, Viole, Dallet, and Guimel stood waiting for them at the bottom of the small platform chattering amongst themselves. 

"Hey guys, could one of you go on to the mess hall and get Lord Dilandau something to eat?" Gatty asked. 

"I'll get it," Shesta volunteered himself. 

"Thanks Shes," Gatty said and then began to usher Dilandau from the room again. Dilandau allowed himself to be led; he was getting used to letting people help him. When they reached his room, Dilandau stripped out of his armor and crawled onto his bed. He grabbed one of his large pillows and curled up around it. He shut his eyes and inhaled the clean scent of the silk pillow case, while he reveled in the softness of the pillow beneath his cheek. He heard the gentle rustling of blankets and felt warmth as something soft and heavy was pulled over his frame. 

"Don't get too comfortable, Lord Dilandau; food is coming for you soon," Gatty said. 

"Who's fault will it be if I get too comfortable? You're the one who pulled this quilt over me," Dilandau murmured. An hour nap sounded good, maybe two hours. There wasn't another practice until that evening, and Folken didn't need him for anything. 

Gatty chuckled, "You looked cold sir, not to give you that blanket would constitute as cruelty." 

"Sure," a pleasant feeling of warmth and well-being washed over him. Sleep, it whispered to him, no harm will befall of you. 

He heard faint voices from far`away speaking, "Just put it over there, he's falling asleep. He'll eat later." 

"Are you sure that's ok? He's supposed to eat at certain times." 

"He's too tired; I'm sure it'll be ok if we let him rest now." 

"All right, we'll leave him be then." 

******************************************************************************************** 

_The Strategos made him nervous with his Sorcerer-like appearance. He masked his uneasiness with insolence. Rudeness was an acceptable trait in the military, fear was not. He frowned at the cloaked man who towered over him giving him instructions._

_*You should be listening, not thinking about how creepy he is!*_

_Why don't YOU listen for a change and leave me to my thoughts. You said you wanted more control, but it seems you only want that control when we are enjoying ourselves. I will not do all the work and let you have all the play. _

_*You won't let me DO anything! When I have suggestions, you ignore them!*_

_If all of your suggestions didn't involve maiming our Slayers when they make a mistake in _

_training..._

_*Your precious Viole would benefit from a little martial discipline. How could you choose such a clown?*_

_He's intelligent and resourceful. _

_*I want to have more influence on who we pick in our next drafting round.*_

_Fine._

_"Dilandau, are you listening to me?" Folken asked, his voice flat and emotionless. _

_Dilandau blinked, "Of course I am Strategos..." _

_Help me..._

_*He wants us to start taking leave with our Slayers. It's not healthy for someone our age to stay cooped up on the Vione all of the time. He thinks we should take a shuttle down to the city and spend time with our men.*_

_"...and I disagree. There are simply too many things to be done around here. While the men are below, I can start working on the new obstacle course or start programing the flight simulators you had built in."_

_You were actually listening!_

_*Well I knew you weren't.*_

_"How old are you Dilandau?" Folken asked staring at him dull-eyed._

_"Thirteen," Dilandau said. "What does it matter? You're not going to give me a speech about my being too young to know what's good for me, are you? I'm beyond those types of speeches. I haven't been a child for a very long time, if I ever was one."_

_Folken's look of disinterest never wavered, "Go down and enjoy your free time Dilandau; you may not get anymore for a very long time."_

_Dilandau blinked after the tall man as he turned and walked away from him without formally concluding the conversation or even offering a "goodbye." Not that Dilandau cared about that sort of thing; he had never been thought important enough for his former masters to greet or give farewell to. _

_Well...what do you want to do? Personally I feel we have much to do and little time to waste in which to get it done. _

_*For someone who spends valuable practice time doodling that sounds mighty strange.*_

_You act as if I do it everyday! I don't, and when I do, it's after hours! I'm not wasting any practice time._

_*Whatever.*_

_Well if you're so bitter about it, we'll practice now! How about that, huh? Happy?_

_*Give me control during the session.*_

_Dilandau frowned, he didn't like relinquishing control of his body. It was uncomfortable to be fully aware of what one was doing, but to have no power over it. Sometimes things he didn't approve of what happened, and he couldn't stop it. The fact that if she went too far while she was in control, he couldn't do a thing about it, scared the hell out of him. One time they struggled for dominance during a practice where she'd struck one of their new recruits, Guimel, and had been going for their sword to cut him with. _

_He'd barely won. She was getting stronger, and one day _**he**_ might be the voice holding the map and giving directions while she had the keys to the vehicle. _

_*Well?*_

_Not this time_

_He felt a slight tinge of anger and frustration building behind his eyes and wondered if his face was flushed. Her feelings were starting to affect him and trigger changes in his body temperature and hormone production. They had been like separate entities at first, but now he was finding it hard to keep even his private thoughts from her._

_But she could keep hers from him..._

_He stalked to the room Folken had given him right across from his own. It was large and spacious compared to the cramped living quarters he was used to staying in, but it didn't feel right for him to have such a large space to himself while his soldiers had to share a bunker in another part of the ship. He didn't visit the area often because he found it unpleasant. The older soldiers that were housed there as well were nothing short of swine. There were plenty of other rooms in the wing he resided in with Folken... his next demand would be to have his Slayers moved. _

_There were 10 of them now. He'd gone down and hand picked the next batch of Dragonslayers on his own. He didn't need a big military try-out to help him locate talent. Every soldier he chose he felt had potential to be molded into something great. He wanted them all to reach his level without going through the hardships he'd had to endure. He wanted to show his previous -still living- masters that there was another way to train soldiers that didn't involve them being cold, hungry, isolated, or beaten senseless. _

_He wanted to show her too, but she was making it difficult._

_He snatched down the short daggers mounted on the dark paneled wall and shot a thoughtful glance around the dull, lifeless room. He'd been there for months, and it still looked as if no one resided in it. He had no real personal possessions or trinkets. He'd never been allowed to accumulate anything. The only things he owned were the clothes on his back and now his weapons, but if he were to be transferred to another fortress, he was pretty sure his new weapons would remain with the Vione. _

_He sighed, maybe he should start taking leave. Maybe he could find something to personalize his room, and he could buy something to wear other than uniform. He wondered how much money he had to spend. He'd never had an allowance before, but Folken let him know once he came aboard the ship some money had been put away in an account just for him. His Slayers were also given small stipends; subtle hints from Folken, that Dilandau had to strain to catch, led him to believe the monies his soldiers received were pennies compared to what he was being given, though. _

_Did the Sorcerers have anything to do with his new salary? Was it some sort of an apology for treating him so badly?_

_*Oh get your head out of the damn clouds Dilandau! Folken gives us that money because _

**_he_** thinks we should be compensated for our hard work! He's the most decent adult we've ever encountered. Now get those daggers and come on!* 

_He growled at her wordlessly knowing she'd sense the sentiment behind his primitive response. _

_The gym was empty, save for the workout equipment that Dilandau put to good use. Working with his blades and getting his heart rate up felt so good he wasn't satisfied when it came time to quit, so he didn't. He lifted weights, ran laps, did push-ups and crunches, and came up with a better stretch routine to increase agility. _

_Oddly enough, he was having fun. _

_*What did I tell you, Dilandau? If only you'd listen to me more often! Don't you feel so much better now? Colored pencils could never make you feel this alive.*_

_No, Dilandau agreed toweling himself off. He'd removed his armor after he'd gotten through with his sharps work and had worked out in the plain clothes he wore under his armor, a white cotton short-sleeved shirt with brown cotton pants. The outfit was cool and comfortable, but made no fashion statement other than "homely." _

_*Now we need a shower...*_

_Or perhaps a bath... We've never used the large tub in the bathroom before. It's long and wide enough for us to relax in it._

_*Why would anyone want to relax in a tub full of water? The purpose of baths is to get clean not to soak and bask.*_

_But others do it and they like it! Sensei LeBlanc always took long baths and came out smelling of roses and orchids. He was much more pleasant afterwards as well. _

_*Sensei LeBlanc was an odd one. I would never try to model myself after any of his habits. The other soldiers mocked him in his absence, or do you not recall this?*_

_Dilandau groaned outwardly. I'm taking a bath, and since you are stuck with me, you are taking one also! _

_*Bah...hygiene. If others didn't find the smell of a body immersed in its own natural scent so offensive, I would do away with all of it!*_

_Dilandau shuddered to think of such a thing. He liked being clean, and he loved the smell of fragrant soaps and shampoos. Never again would he let the woman control his body. He gathered his weapons and armor and slung his towel over his shoulder. Turning out the light as he left the room he began to whistle happily. He would take a long bath and maybe finish his sketch of the docking bridge; after â€" of courseâ€" he made sure there was no newly discovered work to be done. _

_He was so clouded in thought he nearly ran into one of his Slayers who was rushing toward him with a look of panic and great sorrow on his face. Dilandau held the trembling lad at arms length to get a good look at his pale face framed by fluffy brown hair. "Ryuuon? When did you return? I was told you and the rest of the unit were not to return for 3 more hours."_

_Tears coursed down the boy's face as he struggled to speak, "L...Lord Dilandau.... It's... We... Viole, Guimel, Dallet, Anwar, and I were in a bar. The bartender served us whatever we wanted for free, and some of were well beyond our stopping point. Anwar...gods...he's such a braggart with such a bad temper. He got into a quarrel with one of the other soldiers in the bar with us... No, no not a Dragonslayer!" _

_Dilandau lessened his grip when Ryuuon emptied his mind of the thought of his own men fighting amongst each other-but the halting way Ryuuon was telling the tale and the stricken look and tears upon his face, kept Dilandau silently on edge awaiting the rest of the story._

_Had Anwar been injured; had he killed the other soldier and was not awaiting a sentencing in a jail cell below? _

_*You should have let me beat that temper of his out of him!*_

_Shut up!_

_"The soldier was so much bigger, and we tried to break up the fightâ€" we did! But Anwar, he wouldn't let us! He and the soldier pulled swords and... gods...he's dead. He was stabbed right through the heart; there was no way to save him! The man who killed him... he ran and Viole, Guimel, and Dallet chased after him. I found Gatty and told him, and he commanded we all return...but we couldn't find Viole, Guimel, or Dallet. Gatty, Shesta, and Miguel are still aground searching for them and the killer."_

_Dead.... Anwar.... Tall and lean, skin rich as the most expensive of chocolates, with eyes that shone like ebony, and burned with the fire of passion when it came to loyalty and victory. Beautiful Anwar, his second-in-command, was dead. _

_One of his Slayers had gone to a place Dilandau would never be able to rescue him from. Gods... Where had he gone wrong? He was training them to be the best...they were the best! How could one of his men be killed in a simple bar fight?_

_*You aren't hard enough on them! I TOLD you! Now will you listen to me?!*_

_Dilandau bit his lip as he released Ryuuon's shoulders and schooled his expression not to show his grief but instead his rage. "What has been done with Anwar? His...body?"_

_"It's... the local authorities wouldn't let us touch him. They took him; Lord Folken has already been alerted, and he's waiting for you on the deck. He wants you to go down with him to identify Anwar. His family..."_

_Anwar was of noble blood; news of his loss would bring his family much pain. Dilandau felt his insides freeze and his stomach clench. If he wasn't going to be sick, he feared he would faint. Could he look upon the lifeless body of one his Slayers? "I'll join Folken shortly; deliver my message to him."_

_He stalked away from Ryuuon's trembling form and continued on to his room, his mind reeling from the shock of loss. He should have been there; Folken told him he should have accompanied his Slayers! If he had been there, he would have fought for Anwar! He DID have more work to do, but instead he'd ignored it to take time for play. Once again being idle brought him pain. _

_He barged into his room letting his armor and weapons fall from his arms and clatter to the floor. He ran into the bathroom and threw himself in front of the commode to empty his stomach of all of its contents. He rose shakily from the porcelain throne wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He unsteadily made his way to the sink to rinse his mouth out and wash his hands. He splashed cold water on his face and ran his hands through his hair. _

_*Get yourself together Dilandau; one of our own was just killed! We will avenge his death, and with the way you look now, you will not strike terror into anyone's hearts!*_

_Dilandau swallowed hard, But..._

_*Shine your armor, get it on, grab your sword, and lets be on our way. The killer's trail grows colder for every second you stand doing nothing! We will show the world what happens when you touch what belongs to us!* _

_Yes._

_Dilandau ventured back into the main room where he'd hastily discarded his armor and found his cloth to polish it quickly. When I kill the bastard, I want him to be impressed. _

_*And for the next bastard you have to kill?*_

_Dilandau began to pull on his overcoat, What do you mean?_

_*It's going to happen again and again, unless you change the way you insist on training our Slayers.*_

_I won't resort to senseless beatings and other acts of sadism._

_Dilandau ran a brush through platinum hair limp with sweat from his workout._

_*Then don't...but we can't let them get away with their small mistakes anymore. We have to make it known to them that being careless is not ok. Discipline never killed anyone. We don't have to beat them or lock them in cellars, but we can come up with other things...*_

_Hmm... other things?_

_*Yes, you're creative; together we should be able to come up with other more suitable punishments for inattentiveness.... There will never be another Anwar; not even one of our men is replaceable.*_

_No more accidents..._

_Dilandau nodded then gazed at himself in the mirror; his argent hair fell into his eyes at just the right angles so that it shielded the anguish reflected from their ruby depths. His lips curved in a bitter smile and he turned away from his reflection to collect his long sword. _

_He was going to enjoy spilling the man's blood, and tomorrow, he was going to drastically change the way he trained his troops._

_*Will you let me help; would you let me take control?*_

_Only when I can no longer fight you...Dilandau whispered, praying she hadn't heard him. He hurried from the room and paced himself to the flight deck to meet Folken and catch the next convoy into town._

****************************************************************************** 

__Dilandau sat up in bed gasping and trying to free himself from the heavy blanket tucked around him. He'd tossed and turned so much in his sleep he'd ensnared himself within the folds of the cloth. 

What the hell had that been? Had it been a nightmare or a memory? He tried to recall the dream, but all images of it had vanished. The only traces of it left were the overwhelming feelings of despair and failure. 

He brought his knees to his chest and dropped his head on them. Anwar. He'd had a slayer named Anwar, and he'd been one of his best. Anwar had once held Shesta's position, but he hadn't thought about him in years. How could that be? He'd loved Anwar. He hadn't exactly chosen him to be a member of his team originally, but after working with the boy he'd seen his potential. 

He paused in his thoughts with a frown. Why couldn't he remember what happened to Anwar, and why was he just now wondering why he couldn't? His body began to tremble; what the hell was going on? He climbed out of bed and pulled on his boots. He would ask Folken; Folken usually knew what he did not. 

He walked past the plate of fruit and bread brought to him by his slayers. His stomach rumbled lightly, informing him of his hunger. He lifted the small plate; he'd just take it with him. 

He opened the door to find Miguel and Viole standing sentry. "Lord Dilandau!" 

Dilandau blinked, "Have you been waiting for me to come out?" 

"Yeah," Viole said smiling brightly, "Miguel and I have a little dispute we need you to settle. You see, he seems to think he's a better guymelef pilot than me, which is so totally not true! Gatty won't give us our simulator scores, so I figured you could tell us." 

Dilandau stared at the two before him. Miguel sighed heavily and rolled his eyes heavenwards, "Lord Dilandau, please ignore him. He's been trying everyone's nerves today. No one can stand him, and when they can't, they put him with me! Um...now may not be the most appropriate time to ask you this...but um.... Can I have a new partner?" 

"Hey! You said you didn't want another partner!" Viole protested looking hurt. 

Dilandau quietly slipped past the bickering slayers without them noticing. He wondered, in amusement, how long it would take them to realize he was gone. Dilandau stopped in front of the door to Folken's lab and stared at it hesitantly. Should he just go in, should he knock, did he really want to hear what Folken would have to say to him? 

Dammit. 

Miguel and Viole were still brabbling behind him, and he had no desire to be caught up in their silly altercation. Normally he wouldn't mind; he found both boys disporting. He knocked lightly on Folken's door before pressing the panel to open it. 

Folken didn't look up as Dilandau let himself in and took a seat across from him at his work bench. "What's wrong?" 

"Why does something always have to be wrong?" Dilandau asked, setting his plate down on the table. He gazed at the glass beakers and corked viles that held colorful fluids wanting to touch them and shake their contents to see if they would fizz. Folken had a long scroll spread out in front of him, and he held a pencil and compass. 

"Because something usually is with you. Weren't you taking a nap?" 

"I woke up," Dilandau said shortly. "What are you doing?" 

Folken sighed and set down his work tools. He peered at Dilandau inquisitively before answering, "I'm finishing the plans for your new units. I've updated the Oreades and Alseides models. They won't be ready for your next mission, but you will have them soon." 

Dilandau perked up, "Next mission?" He bit back a smile at the thought of leaving the Vione and taking to the air again. He missed piloting. He tucked a strawberry into his mouth and chewed on it thoughtfully. His mood lightened and all of the previous feelings of darkness dissipated. Being in Folken's presence always seemed to make him feel a little better. Maybe he wouldn't ask about the forgotten dreams. 

"Yes, Dilandau, a mission. We don't have the definite location of the dragon yet; the Emperor is having a hard time getting a fix on it. We'll need you to scout out the western borders of Freid. You and your Slayers need to be ready to depart in two days, if there are no problems." 

"Freid?" Dilandau frowned; he hadn't been keeping up with the paperwork. Shesta always claimed he could handle it himself and shooed Dilandau away when he tried to help. 

"Yes," Folken affirmed. "One of our Energist Sites was destroyed by the dragon a few days ago, and the last report said the dragon was heading in that direction." 

Dilandau nodded. Shesta hadn't told him anything about this, but he knew the blond was probably well informed on the topic. Damn over-protective soldiers! 

"So...?" 

"So what?" Dilandau frowned, breaking off a bit of bread and putting it in his mouth. 

"Did you come in here just to annoy me, or did you actually need something?" Folken scooted the stool he sat in closer to the table; his eyes never left Dilandau's. The line in his brow furrowed slightly as if he was trying to read something on Dilandau's face. "Are you alright?" 

"'M' fine," Dilandau murmured, mouth full. 

Folken rolled his eyes, "Is this your first meal of the day?" 

"No," Dilandau grumbled. "Do you really think my Slayers would let me go until the afternoon without eating anything? I really need to do something about them. They are driving me crazy. I swear Shesta tried to follow me into the bathroom and run my bath water for me! Next he's gonna try to wipe my ass after I use the..." 

"Dilandau!" 

Dilandau grinned impishly. 

"What do you want?" Folken's voice sounded strained, and it intrigued Dilandau to see that he'd gotten under the Strategos's skin without even trying! 

"Nothing, not really... not anymore, anyway," Dilandau said crunching on another fruit. He looked thoughtfully at Folken. "Folken? Do you....remember Anwar?" 

Folken started lightly and looked at Dilandau oddly, "Anwar? You recall him?" 

Dilandau narrowed his eyes at Folken's reaction, "I don't think I've ever forgotten him...but I'm only thinking of him now. He was killed... one of my slayers was killed, and I haven't thought on it once since then. Why?" 

Folken was quiet for a moment as he contemplated his answer, "Dilandau, after Anwar's murder, the Sorcerer's took you. When you returned you spoke nothing of him, and your slayers would not speak of anything you would not. I figured something had been done to modify your memories... at the time of Anwar's death, you became rather irate." 

Dilandau exploded, "Of course I did! One of my men was killed! How was I supposed to behave? Was I successful in disposing of Anwar's killer?" 

Folken nodded, "And you were also successful at disposing of most of the men that belonged to that man's unit. You wouldn't stop until they were all dead...and..." 

"So they took me. Just how often did they take me? How many memories do I not have? I've been having some strange dreams as of late... ones I do not remember the events of, but I recall the feelings clearly. In them, I am not one, but two people. I could feel another presence in my mind... I think it was Celena...I'm not sure. I'm not sure of anything anymore. I figured.... I thought you would know what I don't. Tell me Folkenâ€" are my dreams flashbacks of things I can't remember?" 

Folken blinked, "Dilandau, without knowing what your dreams are about, I cannot tell you the answer to that. Anwar's death was real. Yes, your mind has been tampered with. Yes, some of things you remember may not be true. Yes, it is possible your dreams are lost recollections of events that wish to resurface and become part of you once more. The longer you are away from the influence of the Sorcerer's, the more you come back to yourself. Dilandau, you were truly a different person before the separation. You shed moods like some reptiles shed their skins. I do believe not all of the mood swings can be attributed to your will. You and Celena were one being, but with two different minds. Now that I actually have had the chance to see you apart from her influence, I do believe she was the more violent of the two of you, and her nature was becoming more evident in your rash actions. Maybe a separation wasn't the smartest choice ever made by the Sorcerer's, but something had to be done to gentle her. You hold a position of power with mass weapons of destruction at your disposal. Zaibach does not want an unstable wielder to hold its power. You, Dilandau, are perfect. I've seen you sit and think through battle simulation, instead of just charging in head first flamethrower ready. I've seen your strategies and ideas in the control room. I've watched you solve the most complicated of puzzles in mere moments. You are exactly what the Emperor wants..." 

"Me without her..." Dilandau murmured. "But... we... Sometimes when I wake up, I feel her. We needed each other... we still do. Folken, what do you think they did with her?" 

Folken shook his head, "That I can't tell you, Dilandau." 

"You couldn't find out for me?" Dilandau pushed the half-eaten plate of food away him, his appetite sated. He was starting to feel a bit queasy. Even if he couldn't feel her now, he would know if Celena was dead....wouldn't he? His insides clenched as he realized he would not. 

"I could try Dilandau, but I'm trying not to draw too much attention to you. I don't want the Madoushi to believe there's a problem and take you from the Vione again." 

"But there is a problem," Dilandau breathed. "Please Folken...find out for me. I'll do....anything. I'll...." Oh gods, help me... "I'll... forget about my business with your brother, just find her for me, please? I have so much I need to ask her, and if she's here, I just know I'll get better. Please?" 

Folken gave a deep suspiration, "I'll do my best Dilandau, but only if you promise to do something for me first." 

"What's that?" Dilandau clamped down on the excitement building in his heart. 

"Finish eating." 

Dilandau smiled and rested a hand on the table, "You could have had anything from me, and you asked for that?" 

"Would you have me ask for more?" 

Dilandau shrugged, a frown marring his fair features as he pondered that question. Folken could have asked for the stars in the night, and Dilandau would have killed himself trying to pluck them from the sky. But on a realistic level, he discovered... he didn't mind the idea of doing things for Folken. Folken, after all, was saving his life. Folken gave him the freedom he'd never had growing up. Folken took care of him... 

Did he love Folken as he loved his Slayers? 

"Yes." 

Folken blinked at Dilandau's soft admission. 

"You would?" 

Dilandau shook his head. Yes, he loved Folken as he could have loved a father or an older sibling. "Folken, if you ever need anything, just ask it of me, and it will be done." 

It was Folken's turn to smile, "And how long is this to be good for?" 

"For as long as you have breath to ask, and I have breath to give," Dilandau said simply. He gazed back at his plate and forced his eyes to find the sight attractive and his stomach to regain its appetite. He bit into another fruit slice and pretended not to notice Folken's eyes upon him. 

What was he thinking? 

Maybe.... 

No. Folken had a brother, one that he loved. But... maybe... 

Maybe he had room for two brothers. 

Allen stood at the helm of the Crusade feeling very pleased with himself. Not only had he managed to escape the King's dungeon, but he'd resisted temptation as well. After aiding Van in his escape from Astoria, Allen had been thrown into the royal dungeon by order of King Aston. With a little help from Princess Millerna, he'd been set free, but what he hadn't expected was for the love smitten princess to try to accompany him on his voyage to Freid. 

They reached the large airship together and when he turned to say goodbye, he discovered the princess had no plans of going anywhere but with him. It was at that moment Princess Eries had shown up, glaring at Allen as if Millerna's decision to runaway with him was his fault. Well....maybe it partly was... but he had in no way encouraged the girl to go with him, not this time. 

Millerna had looked up at him, her large blue eyes glistening like twin lakes with the sun setting upon them. That look had melted him before...when it had belonged to Marlene... 

Millerna did look a lot like her sister, and she acted a lot like her too. Maybe that was why Allen could never quite push the girl's affections aside. He knew it would hurt her in the long run, as Princess Eries had oh-so-kindly pointed out a few nights prior. 

Allen had shaken his head, erasing visions of Marlene from his sight as he gazed at Millerna. They were two different people, and he had to quit trying to morph Millerna into Marlene. He'd scooped the young princess up and carried her back to the carriage they'd arrived in. He laid her upon the velvet seat and gazed down at her for a brief moment before shutting the door behind him and venturing back to the Crusade feeling the heat of Eries' glare on his back. 

He sighed deeply; he'd sort out the mess with Millerna later. He knew he couldn't just leave the girl with hopes that he'd someday come back to her as a lover. It just wouldn't be right to give ones heart to two women in the same family...it was dishonorable. 

And what would he tell her about the boy? 

Allen felt a sharp pang in his stomach as he thought about the young blond future duchy of Fried. Would the boy look like him now? He and Marlene had been afraid that he would... 

He shook himself. Not now. 

Now he would worry about reaching Freid before Zaibach attacked. Damn King Aston for letting those bastards walk all over him and sell the safety of his own nephew for the sake of his hide. 

Freid seemed to have something that Zaibach wanted, and Allen was as curious to know what that was as he was anxious to get to Freid to protect the small duchy. 

He wondered if he would be reunited with Van and Hitomi there? Probably so. The King of Fanelia always seemed to turn up whenever there was about to be trouble, whether he be the cause of it, the solution to it, or both. 

He smirked lightly; he would no doubt be coming to the aid of the King of Fanelia again, and he looked forward to it. 

******************************************************************************************** 

"A mission tomorrow?" Gatty raised an eyebrow at Folken. "You don't think it's too soon Lord Folken? I mean, I understand the Emperor is getting restless....but one more day certainly couldn't make all that much more of a difference." 

"The King of Fanelia isn't our only problem Gatty. I fear a ship from Astoria is on its way to warn Freid of our intentions, which will spoil any attempts on our part at a surprise attack," Folken said gravely. He fought the impulse the rub his temples to relieve the stress building there. 

Gatty frowned deeply, "Alright... but is it necessary for Lord Dilandau to participate? Do you not think you could convince him to send us on our own, with me in charge, perhaps? We haven't tested his flight performance in a guymelef since he started your treatments. What if there are adverse effects when operating machinery? He still requires a nap during the day and has to be reminded to eat. I just don't think he's ready." 

Folken agreed with the serious-eyed boy before him, but did not speak a word in favor of his opinion. Maybe Dilandau wasn't ready to take on the task of going after the dragon just yet, but there was no way Folken could allow him to remain behind this time. That was why he'd been updating the Oreades unit. He was trying to make it more user- friendly with a cockpit sensitive to biorhythms and an automatic autopilot that would kick in if those biorhythms were to become unstable or erratic. 

Unfortunately, that project wouldn't be completed until _after_ this new mission. Gatty sighed loudly at Folken's silence, "I'm going to assume you agree with me on my call sir, but can't do anything about it. Am I right?" 

Folken gazed at the boy impassively; Dilandau had chosen his first-in-command well. He'd always admired Gatty and the way he could take charge in Dilandau's stead. It eased Folken's mind a bit to think that both he and Shesta would be along to supervise their impulsive captain. 

"I trust you'll take care of him out there Gatty, so I have nothing to worry about," Folken said and Gatty blinked. 

"Sir." 

Folken hid a smirk as the blond bowed and waited for the expected dismissal, which Folken issued. 

"I wish you good fortune on your mission." 

"Thank you, sir." 

******************************************************************************************** 

I wish you good fortune on your mission. Bullshit. Gatty was ready to throttle the Strategos that had emotionlessly stood in front of him. Damn, stoic, pointy-headed.... 

No, thinking ill thoughts about the Strategos was not going to improve his situation any, but still, the humor in calling Lord Folken names did lighten his heart a bit. Gatty needed to find something to do that would take the edge of the lance of fear that penetrated his gut every time he thought of Lord Dilandau outside of the controlled environment of the Vione in his condition. Granted, Lord Dilandau was doing much better... but... He was still no where near up to his normal level of activity. 

He heard the ringing sound of swords clashing as he walked past the Dragonslayers' gym and poked his head inside. Maybe whoever it was would let him spar with the winner of the duel. A good fencing match might help him work off some of his nervous energy. 

His eyes went wide, and he froze in the doorway at seeing Miguel and Lord Dilandau locked together in a furious tango of sharp weapons. They faced each other with cutlass and dagger, moving in a manner that Gatty only dreamed he could. Lord Dilandau's form was superb as always, but Miguel met him strike for strike. The display was awe-inspiring, and Gatty moved forward as in a trance enthralled by the glinting silver of the weapons. The dance went on for minutes before Lord Dilandau finally relieved Miguel of his long sword and had his dagger at his throat. 

"You could of had me, Miguel. Why did you let up?" Lord Dilandau asked breathlessly. He sheathed his sword and tucked his dagger back into his belt. The captain was uncharacteristically winded, and Gatty frowned, wondering if Lord Dilandau required assistance. 

Miguel laid back on the mat for a moment, trying to catch his breath as well. "I didn't let up on you. I didn't go for the obvious kills, because that would have shortened a wonderful match with a more than worthy opponent. It has been a while since I've sparred with someone with real skill, sir. I wasn't going to exploit advantages that wouldn't have presented themselves, had you been fully up to the challenge." 

Lord Dilandau fumed silently as Gatty cursed Miguel for his lack of tact. But then again, Lord Dilandau liked for his soldiers to be honest, and Miguel was very responsible when it came to fulfilling that particular duty. 

"Get up Miguel," Lord Dilandau grumbled. Miguel pulled himself to his feet with a tired grunt. 

"It was a good spar, sir," Miguel said quietly. "In a few days, perhaps we could do it again, and that time, you will best me in every way possible." 

Lord Dilandau nodded with a tired sigh, "Perhaps." 

Miguel's sharp eyes studied Lord Dilandau thoroughly, "I think we overdid it, today, sir. Lord Folken's not going to be pleased at all." 

Lord Dilandau rolled his eyes heavenward, "Folken's being overprotective. Tomorrow we fly to Freid, and I need to flex my muscles. If he hadn't insisted I stay inactive for so long, I might be back in shape by now. Stupid Folken..." 

Gatty lifted an eyebrow as he detected no malice in the statement where there probably should have been. "How long are you going to stand over there and eavesdrop, Gatty? What do you want?" 

Gatty jumped and fought the urge to giggle sheepishly at both Lord Dilandau and Miguel staring at him impatiently. "Uh....nothing, really. I just heard swords and came to see who was fighting. I was hoping to challenge the victor; I need an outlet for some nervous energy." 

Lord Dilandau blinked, "I'm tired, Gatty; challenge Miguel. By all means, he should have won today anyway." 

Miguel looked startled at Lord Dilandau's admittance of weakness as did Gatty. That made two in one day. "Is something the matter, sir?" 

Lord Dilandau shook his head, "Yeah...me. I'm going to go look over the mission outline and make sure the probably course of the dragon has been plotted correctly. There would be nothing worse than flying all the way to Freid and then finding out the dragon's in Basram." 

Gatty and Miguel watched him leave without offering any parting words, other than to press the cutlass he'd used into Gatty hands. Gatty thought about following the pale captain, but paused as he heard the song of a blade being whipped through the air. He turned to see Miguel standing in a fighting stance, looking pointedly at him, cutlass and dagger ready. 

"En garde, Gatty," Miguel said softly. 

Gatty could hardly be surprised; Miguel had such a one track mind at times. Gatty quickly brought the cutlass he'd been given into a forward stance and withdrew the dagger from his belt. "Touche." 

He and Miguel watched each other warily while they moved in a small circle with their weapons at ready. Miguel wouldn't attack first, Gatty already knew, and he could be extremely patient when he needed to be. Gatty once tried to wait the boy out and force him to attack first....after an hour, he'd given up on that crazy notion. He sighed and lunged at Miguel, bracing himself for the parry. Miguel was very heavy armed and the absorbed shock of his blows could be very painful when one wasn't prepared for them. 

"You have that look on your face," Miguel said, delivering his first attack. 

"What look?" Gatty questioned, marveling at how easily Miguel could carry on a conversation through a match. 

"That old man look you get when you're worried about something. Not feeling confident about tomorrow's mission?" Miguel asked, scoring a hit and tapping Gatty's armor lightly on the shoulder. 

"Are you?" Gatty asked, cursing himself for letting Miguel slip through his defenses. 

Miguel's face looked pinched, "Not really. I... He's strong, and it really was a good match; he certainly put up a better fight than you are right now, but he was right. I really could have taken him, if I wanted to. It scared me to know that. Every time I saw an opening, I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach. His reaction time has been slowed, and he gets winded too quickly. He hasn't flown his guymelef in a while, but if his reaction time is slowed in open hand to hand combat, imagine it in a guymelef. He'll be in danger, if we run into the dragon again. The King of Fanelia is no slouch with a sword, and his piloting skills may have grown to match that." 

Gatty nodded, "I don't think he's ready either. I tried to talk to the Strategos about it, and gods Miguel, he agrees; he just can't do anything about it. I think it has something to do with the Sorcerers." 

"That wouldn't surprise me," Miguel remarked, relieving Gatty of his cutlass easily. "Everything about Lord Dilandau always has something to do with the Sorcerers. I really would like to know why. The Sorcerers never want anything to do with us or anyone else aboard the Vione... just Lord Dilandau, and now they've finally screwed up. Folken's trying to hide the problem, because he's afraid if they find out, they'll try to fix it and screw Lord Dilandau up even more. Well... all I have to say about that is: they'll have to go through me first." 

Gatty chuckled at Miguel's intensity, his dark blue eyes burned with passionate fire. He didn't gasped as the dagger was kicked from his hands, and he found himself flat on his back with Miguel's sword at his throat. Sometimes he wondered why Miguel wasn't made Lord Dilandau's first- in- command or even the second. He was superior to just about everyone, but Lord Dilandau, when it came to swordplay skills. Lord Dilandau was usually caught sparring with Miguel at odd hours, when he would spar with no other soldier under his command. 

But alas, Gatty rolled his eyes at Miguel's arrogant smirk; Miguel's haughtiness would always be his undoing. Gatty hooked a leg around Miguel's ankle, causing Miguel to lose his balance. Gatty sprang to his feet, grabbing his lost dagger swiftly and pinning Miguel beneath him with the obelisk at his jugular. 

Miguel growled under him, "That wasn't fair, Gatty." 

"I hadn't surrendered yet," Gatty laughed. "You should never count anything as a victory until you are completely sure the enemy has given up, Miguel. I'm sure you notice how I'm pinning you down, even though I have you at a very deadly disadvantage. If you had decided to defeat Lord Dilandau earlier, I doubt you would have dealt with him as you dealt with me, if you got him down." 

Miguel shook his head, averting his eyes in shame. "He fights like a demon, when you get him on the ground. That's why I never agree to wrestle with him. I should not have underestimated you, Gatty. I won't do it again." 

Gatty smiled, "That's all I ask, Mr. Lavariel. So, do you surrender?" 

"Yeah, yeah," Miguel grumbled and sat up as Gatty stood. 

"So what are you planning to do about tomorrow's situation?" Miguel questioned, taking the hand Gatty offered him down to him. 

Gatty sighed, "I don't know. I'll have to talk to Shesta about it. I bet he's come up with 10 different plans by now, and that sneaky bugger will know how to act on those plans right under Lord Dilandau's nose." 

Miguel snorted, "Probably so. Would you mind if I tagged along to your meeting with Shesta? I need something else to do that would make me seem busy, before Viole comes to find me and decides I need to be entertained." 

"Gods.... then by all means, let me help you out," Gatty laughed and clapped Miguel on the back. "Lets put away these swords first." 

"Alright." 

******************************************************************************************** 

Shesta frowned at the course of the dragon Viole was plotting for him. The path was not clear; the boy king was not taking a preferred route to Freid. They would have to scour the forest areas around the borders. The mission could go on for days before anything was discovered. 

"Face it, Shes; anyway we look at it, this mission is going to suck," Viole said, setting down his pencil. "To scan the entire perimeter will take week at minimum." 

Shesta groaned and rubbed his hands over his eyes, "I know, I know..." 

"Know what?" the door to the bedroom Shesta and Gatty shared opened to admit Gatty and Miguel. 

"Miguel!" Viole beamed. "Miss me, already?" 

Miguel's eyes widened in shock, "Viole?! I just can't get away from you!" 

Viole dimpled, "I've got a magnetic personality. People just can't _stay_ away from me. I'm dangerous." 

"I'm getting a headache..." Miguel mumbled, he looked at the map on Shesta's desk Viole was working on, as he ventured further into the room. "It this the Freidian border?" 

"Yes," Shesta nodded. "There's no way to get around the period of time this mission may take. The dragon is not on a direct course, and it may be difficult to locate it. We could be out in the wilderness of Freid for a week or more before we see anything. We'll have to set up camp, because there is no way Lord Dilandau should be allowed to remain in a guymelef for that long. He will try, if we let him, though." Shesta rubbed his chin, "I think we're going to have to take shifts, half on ground, half in air. We'll keep him on ground as much as possible, make him believe he's more needed there." 

"He'll see through that and roast you with his flame thrower," Viole pointed out. "The ground shift, air shift thing sounds very practical, and Lord Dilandau will readily agree to that, if he hadn't already thought of it himself. But, as for keeping him safe on ground longer than he's in air, it's not gonna happen. Just be happy he will only be piloting half of the time, and you do realize that if the dragon is found, there is no way he's going to stay out of the fight." 

"Arg," Shesta pulled at his hair. "You're right. That tenacious bastard will never know what's good for him." 

"Shesta!" Viole, Gatty, and Miguel gapped at the blond. Had he really just called their leader a... 

"What? He is, and do not try to convince me that you think I'm lying!" Shesta huffed. "It looks like our best game plan is to watch him like a hawk. If he falters, one of us will be there to get him out of harm's way." 

Shesta glared at the quiet smirks he was being given. 

"Shesta, I don't think I've ever heard you speak out so strongly," Gatty said, unsuccessfully trying to stifle his giggling. 

"Well expect to hear more of it tomorrow," Shesta growled. "This has to be one of the dumbest things we've ever done. I'm going to take a shower." Shesta went to his closet to grab his bath bucket, towel, and robe and stormed out of the room. 

"Well, I feel sorry for any dragon that runs into him," Viole chortled. "So Miguel, you ready to hang out with me?" 

"I think I'm gonna catch a shower too; bye Gatty!" Miguel hurriedly left the room, deserting Gatty with Viole, who grinned at him happily. 

"So Gatty...looks like it's you and me. What do you wanna do?" Viole folded his hands over each other. "I know; I've got some new jokes I haven't tested out yet. You can be the judge and tell me if they're good or bad. Miguel's no good at this; he usually just tells me all of my jokes are bad. He has no sense of humor, but you, Gatty, I believe you are a man of fine taste. Now, once upon a time there was this little dog, and his name was Miguel. Now Miguel had problems..." 

Gatty's head drooped and he sat on the edge of his bed with a moan. Today just wasn't his day. 

******************************************************************************************** 

She thinks my wings are pretty. Should I feel good about that or should my masculinity be insulted? Van wondered to himself. The night was quiet and uneventful, so it was easy for one to lose oneself in thought. The only sounds were the Escaflowne's heavy footsteps as it cut through the underbrush of the woods, the hiss of a breeze, and the light chirping of crickets. Hitomi and Merle rested in the giant palm of the guymelef, staring out into the night like it was some spectacular show. Van didn't see anything out there that amused him, but he kept that thought to himself. He believed he liked girls better when they didn't try to hold conversation with him. 

He sighed, so what did he think of Hitomi now? She had seen his wings and claimed to like them. She had saved his life more than once now, and he felt sure that she might be attracted to him. That attraction would probably dull once they met back up with Allen, but it was nice while it lasted. Could he find himself obsessed with Hitomi in the same way he was obsessed with a certain pale captain of Zaibach? 

Did Hitomi and Dilandau really fit into the same category? Dilandau was strange, and beautiful, and just something so totally new to Van's senses; he fascinated him to no end. Was that infatuation or just plain curiosity? Did Van want to be with him or just be like him? 

It hurt his head to think about it all and to try to sort it out. The only thing he was sure of was that he didn't feel the same way abut Hitomi that he felt about Dilandau. Meaning if he had any feelings for either one of them, they were different. So perhaps he was attracted to Hitomi and only curious about Dilandau. Or it could be the other way around... though he knew thoughts of Dilandau were much more interesting than thoughts of Hitomi. It would probably take mere days to unravel the mystery of that girl, where with Dilandau, Van figured, it could take years...if ever. Van wasn't a very patient person, but he could learn to be patient if it meant conquering a challenge. 

But... he slowed his excited thoughts and racing heart, whoever said that challenge was ever going to present itself to him? Dilandau was an enemy sworn to kill Van. He and Van would always be on opposite sides of the spectrum. Van would never get his chance to learn more, and that thought made his heart ache. He was losing something he never had, really. So, how could it hurt so much? 

If Hitomi were to leave, would he feel the same pain? He actually had her; he should probably hurt more...but for some reason, he didn't think he would. So was it infatuation or curiosity? 

Maybe the feelings were one in the same. He just didn't know; he wasn't experienced enough! He had no role models to learn from and no mentor to ask. Could he really be attracted to another male? He'd heard it was possible, but he'd never seen it. How would he know? The only way he could think of to figure it out was to try it, but he'd never get the chance with Dilandau. He could try with another male, but the idea of that didn't move him. Maybe Dilandau was the only male he could be drawn to...or maybe he wasn't drawn at all... just bedazzled. 

At times like these he could really use an older brother. 

Gods, Folken, I NEED you! How dare you desert me? Zaibach doesn't need you, I do! You were bound to me, mother, and Fanelia. You've failed us all and for that, I'll never forgive you. 

He glanced over at Hitomi then, wiping the anguish from his mind and smiling at how the light breeze ruffled her short hair. Her green eyes were intense as they looked straight ahead. Van decided she was beautiful too, and maybe he could make her into something just as interesting as Dilandau was. 

He had a crush on a dream that lived with a brother he hated; now it was time to have a crush on reality. 

"Van? Where are we headed?" Hitomi's voice ripped him from daydream. 

"The Duchy of Freid ought to be somewhere near here," Van said in a casual manner, praising himself at keeping his voice level as he tried to quell the stampeding emotions trampling over him. 

He heard the girl gasp and looked to see her body tensing as her head jerked from side to side, as if she were searching for something in the dark wilderness, "Van, wait!" 

"What is it?" Van asked her, halting the Escaflowne's movements. He looked around too, but saw nothing. 

"I have a bad feeling about this," Hitomi breathed. "I don't know what it is, but..." 

"Oh no..."Merle moaned, "is something there?" 

There came a sound of wood snapping and leaves and branches rustling violently. Something was coming... but Van still couldn't see anything! 

Was it Zaibach; was it Dilandau? 

"They're here; I know they're here," Hitomi said eerily. She closed her eyes and her soft features gained a look of deep concentration. Her eyes snapped open after a few second and she shouted, "Van, straight ahead!" 

******************************************************************************************** 

"Second String, I want you to cover the west quadrants, Third String the east; the Elite will follow me," Dilandau ordered. "Second and Third will not engage in combat but will remain in stealth, unless given permission from me." 

"Yes sir!" chorused ten voices through his radio. He watched the two strings break away. He needed to spread his troops in order to find the dragon quicker, but he did not want his less skilled slayers going up against the dragon without their superiors to shadow them. He did not doubt their abilities, but he also didn't want to take any chances with their lives. 

He stifled a yawn; they had been on the hunt for two days and had seen hide nor hair of the dragon. They had most likely beaten it to its destination, and precious Van would get a very unpleasant surprise when he entered Dragonslayer infested woods. Dilandau chuckled to himself darkly. Poor little Van... 

Of course, he wasn't allowed to kill him. He had told Folken he wouldn't, but that didn't mean he couldn't rough him up a bit. He waited for the familiar tinge of excitement and thrill to heat his blood and make his heart race, but it never came. He sighed... 

He should have been exhilarated by his current situation; he was, after all, lying in wait for an unsuspecting enemy! The fight would be glorious in the woodland setting. The tall trees with their thick leaves would burn marvelously, and the screams of the two girls with the king would echo through the halls of the forest. He normally would have cackled at the prospect; now, he just frowned. 

His insides felt cold, and he was tired. The only thing he wanted to do was go back to his warm bed and curl up with a...a book. A book! He hadn't thought of reading one of those for recreation in.... Since... 

Well, he couldn't remember...anything. But he knew that once upon a time, he used to like that. He brought a hand to his temple, massaging the new headache brewing there away. He didn't have time for thinking about petty things he could not remember now. It wasn't appropriate. 

"Lord Dilandau, should we set down for the evening?" Gatty's voice crackled over his speakers. 

"No, not yet," Dilandau said. "We'll circle for another hour." His Elite Slayers were coddling him, and it was annoying the hell out of him. He had already reamed them out for doing it twice the day before, and they would stop for hours afterward, then start right back. He was wasting his breath. He wanted to say he felt as if he was losing the respect of his soldiers in his weakness, but he knew he wasn't. He was gaining something else to add to the respect he'd won from them... their friendship. 

That was crossing the line in the military handbook. A good commander is not supposed to be friends with his men, loved by them, yes, but never friends. He was going against everything he'd been trained in a matter of weeks. The Madoushi would be furious when they found out...or rather, if. Folken wasn't going to let them think anything was wrong. 

Dilandau smiled, Folken was breaking the rules too. As long as he wasn't alone in his misconduct, then he didn't feel so bad about itâ€" that is, if he felt bad about it at all. 

Something beeped at his wrist, and he groaned. Time to take his medicine. Folken had increased the dosage, after seeing how well his system was responding to the new chemicals. The drugs made Dilandau feel strange at times, sometimes nauseous, drowsy, and dizzy, but he stopped experiencing the frightening spells of losing control of his mind and body. He could put up with an upset stomach, shakiness, and even naps, if it meant he could be rid of insanity forever. 

He located the small bottle of capsules in the compartment above his periscope. He had never been in the air when he took his medication, and he wondered if maybe he should have taken Gatty's suggestion to set down for the evening. 

"Um, Lord Dilandau..." Shesta... If there was ever a time he needed a sedative... "Lord Folken programed my systems to sound when it's time for you to..." 

His voice faltered at the growl from Dilandau. 

"I see you have one too. Well, I don't know if it's such a good idea for us to be in flight mode while you're..." 

"I'm fine, Shesta," Dilandau tapped his fingers on his counsel. He needed to correct his earlier thought; he wasn't gaining friendship; he was gaining mothers! He shuddered to think that he might come to be known as the procreation product of Viole. He could feel his nerves shattering, and without a second thought, he popped two capsules into his mouth. "Too late anyway, I've already taken them." 

"Yes sir," Shesta sighed. 

He was tired of them sighing too. He was going to start counting all of their sighs and have them run two laps for every one when they got back to the Vione. He relaxed in his chair and let his eyes close. He hoped the dragon showed up soon; he was ready to go home where his bath oils and books were. 

"Hey, what's that? Is that them?" Viole's voice woke him from his light doze. What? 

He pulled down his periscope to get a clear view of the ground. Something large was moving through the trees. He narrowed his eyes and magnified the image, then smiled darkly as he identified his target. Hello, Van. "Ok, prepare to descend, we're going to surround the dragon. Gatty, Shesta, east; Miguel, Viole, west; Guimel, Dallet, south; I'll take north. Do nothing until I command it." 

"Yes sir!" 

They began their descent and nestled into the thickets, turning on their invisibility cloaks. Van was going to walk right into their web like a big stupid bug and he was going to use his Oreades to step on him. He chuckled... ooh, now he was getting excited. It just took a little time. 

But he had to remember, no killing Van. 

Nope, he wouldn't kill him; he'd just set him on fire...but only a little bit, Folken would still be able to recognize himâ€" he hoped. 

Hmmm.... he readied his flame thrower, but decided to turn the heat of the flames down a notch. "Attack on my signal." 

They knew better than to ask what his signal was going to be. 

At his will, fire spewed from the arm of his Oreades that should have hit the unaware monarch dead center, but... he moved! 

What the hell? How did he...? 

Arms of liquid metal whipped out to strike Van almost simultaneously, and he dodged each attack. Ok... Just what was this guy? It was almost like he could see them, but that was impossible. The only reason why _Dilandau_ knew the position of his soldiers was because _he_'d _positioned_ them. Whatever technology Van had aboard that tacky, white, antique guymelef, Dilandau wanted. 

"He's moving as if he can see us!" Gatty reported. 

The Escaflowne suddenly surged forward and began running at a rapid pace. 

"After him!" Dilandau ordered, stunned at Van's hasty retreat from the area. It was obvious to him that they were being led somewhere, but Dilandau allowed it. They'd come to close to let the dragon get away now. He converted his Oreades into flight mode and sped after the large white machine, satisfied as he heard the whirring of six more engines buzzing behind him, also in flight mode. 

The Escaflowne broke through the copse and directly into a lake. Dilandau rolled his eyes and followed, plunking his machine down in the lake as well. His majesty seemed to think he was being clever. Stealth cloaks would do his men no good over water...but they didn't seem to do much good over land either, so what was the difference? 

"Crima Claws, now!" Dilandau ordered, standing back for a moment as two Alseides fired their liquid metal at the King. He barely dodged the attacks, and that was when Dilandau waltzed into the affair, extending a Crima Claw to use as a sword. He struck the Escaflowne twice, using vicious down blocks and forcing the white guymelef to take few steps back. "Again!" he yelled to his slayers. 

More liquid metal struck at the dragon, landing disabling hits, and Dilandau giggled. He once again met steel with the King and dissolved his blade so that it melded around the sword of the Escaflowne, "Gotcha now. Gatty, Miguel, close in." 

They had the dragon in their possession again, and best of all, he was still fully in control, albeit a little winded. The small scuffle had taken a toll on him, and his energy was nearly spent. This was going to be a problem. What if the fight had taken longer? 

"Lord Dilandau!" 

Dilandau jumped at the shout, but ease his hold on Van. Something large and heavy was coming at them fast from the left, and Shesta cried out. Dilandau heard the heavy crash of the metal sword of a guymelef meeting an Alseides and the swishing of liquid metal being sluiced through. 

Dammit. "It's Schezar! Tighten up!" Gatty yelled. "Protect Lord Dilandau." 

Dilandau blinked, last time he checked, he was the one giving the orders. But...he thought, as Van struggled against him, he was rather preoccupied at the moment. Let the Slayers deal with Schezar; he'd get Van. 

"Don't let him break through, watch it Miguel!" Gatty snapped. 

Another scream, Viole that time. Dilandau tightened his grip on Van's sword, forcing the Escaflowne to its knees, but he was torn. It was torture to listen to his Slayers struggling and to not do a thing. 

"Oh shit! Heads up, Lord Dilandau!" Guimel yelled before shouting in surprise himself when his guymelef was slashed. 

Scherazade crashed down on him from overhead, its sword severing the liquid metal hold Dilandau had on Van. Van called in delight beneath Dilandau, "Allen!" 

"Hello Van, I knew we'd meet again!" Allen greeted the King, and Dilandau rolled his eyes. He was starting to feel nauseous, and he was sure it wasn't because of Folken's capsules. He tightened his grip on his controls and got his Oreades back into ready position. If he was tired while fighting Van, he was exhausted to think he was going to have to fight Allen Schezar. He felt a dull quiver of thrill shudder through his veins, but it wasn't enough to give him the strength to come through another battle. He gritted his teeth as he realized Schezar might win this one. 

Schezar's guymelef turned to his, awaiting Dilandau's attack. 

Condemn it all to Hades... Dilandau threw himself head first into the assault. Damn you, Schezar, for showing up and ruining an easy capture. Yes, yes, we'd be on our way home, if it wasn't for you. 

Dilandau needed to be angry. Anger usually energized him and sent him to a place where his reflexes were quicker than a serpent's and his blows strong as those of ten men together. He could feel the fury heating his blood, but it was no where near the level he needed. Schezar was clearly not pulling his strikes. He would have tried his flamethrower, but his Slayers were too close, and there was no way they would retreat. Dilandau and Schezar traded furious blows, gliding across the water like swans in an aquatic ballet. 

He was blocking Schezar hit for hit and even delivering attacks of his own, but it wouldn't last for long. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed back up. He flinched as he heard Dallet's colorful exclamation and the loud hiss of the hull of an Alseides being punctured. If he could curse, he was ok, Dilandau assured himself. 

This was turning into a disaster. Should he call in his Second and Third String? Reinforcements would be nice; he probably should have called them earlier, but earlier there had only been Van, and they'd had him under control. This was an embarrassment; one knight and a bumpkin boy-king were taking out his Elite soldiers. They were all getting soft. He growled at the thought and forced more vigor into his uppercuts and down blocks. Allen Schezar would not beat him...ever! 

"Lord Dilandau, behind you!" Miguel called, but Dilandau couldn't turn around; he would lose his concentration on Schezar. 

Clash! In the corner of his eye, he saw sparks from a blade striking the metal armor of a guymelef fly through the air. The Escaflowne stumbled away from him as Miguel's blue Alseid charged it. 

Dilandau let his full attention bleed back to Schezar; Miguel could handle himself. At that thought he heard Miguel's indignant cry of shock and the sound of a punctured hull. Liquid metal poured into the lake, and Dilandau expected to hear the evitable splash of Miguel hitting the water...but instead, he heard more screaming from him. 

What the... 

"Miguel!" Viole yelled. 

Amiss more startled cries from his Elite, there was the loud crash of a guymelef crashing into land and skidding to a halt. Dilandau lifted his attention from Schezar long enough to look and see what had transpired. Miguel's Alseid laid in ruin on the banks... oh gods... He barely parried the next blow dealt by Schezar. 

"Somebody extract Miguel," Dilandau shouted to his Elite, "and fall back if you've been damaged. Gatty, call in the Second String!" 

"He's still alive, Lord Dilandau," Shesta reported. "I saw him move... I can't tell if he's hurt, though." 

Dilandau grunted his acknowledgment, throwing himself at Schezar. His reserves were going to give out soon, so he was going to give Schezar all he had at once, but Schezar pulled back. His guymelef sprinted across the lake and stood to intercept a Crima Claw gone astray. Dilandau watched the Claw penetrate Scherazade's armor and the machine went down on one knee. Good, one annoyance down... he grimaced as something struck him from behind. One more to go, he whirled to meet Van's blade. Van was a much easier adversary than Schezar, and the Escaflowne was damaged from their previous engagement. This wouldn't take long at all. 

"Dilandau!" Eh? Dilandau blinked, Folken? "Fall back, convoys from Freid are entering the area, and we can't afford to be seen here." 

Dilandau couldn't claim to be upset at ending the battle prematurely. 

"I can't get to Miguel, sir!" 

"Why not?" 

"Schezar's men are on the banks..." 

"Dilandau, fall back now!" 

"Not yet Folken, Miguel is..." 

"Now!" 

Dilandau shut his eyes tight, stepping back from the Escaflowne, "Fine... Dragonslayers... fall back. Everyone â€" back to the Vione; a convoy from Freid is coming," 

"But Miguel..." Viole began. 

"We'll retrieve him later," Dilandau sighed. "Fall back, now; these are orders from the Strategos!" 

Dilandau watched as the able Alseides took to the air. He didn't disengage from combat with the white guymelef until the remaining five guymelefs of his Elite were safely in the air and ascending in the direction of the Vione. Dilandau's homing device told him that the floating fortress was near. 

As he delivered one last hit to the Escaflowne in parting, he glanced over to where Miguel had fallen. True to Guimel's words, the damaged Alseid was surrounded by the ruffians belonging to Allen's crew, and Miguel was being dragged between them. There was no way he could extract Miguel without endangering the boy in the process. 

He couldn't save Miguel now, but later he would. Later when he and his Slayers would have a chance to regroup, and he could have some time to come down off of Folken's medicine. He pounded the control panel, Folken's medicine. 

If he hadn't taken it, he would have been able to defeat Van before Allen had arrived, and Miguel wouldn't have had to step in with Schezar. The mission wouldn't have failed, if he hadn't been under the influence of Folken's drugs. 

He couldn't take them anymore; they lessened his skill and dulled his senses. He would just have to take his chances without them. 

Even if it killed him, he wouldn't be responsible for the deaths of his men. 

I'm sorry Miguel; this was my fault, but I'm going to fix it. I'll get you back, no matter the cost. 

************************************************************************************************ 

**Author's Note: Yay, I'm finally done! This chapter took forever! I think I should have divided it up...but then I decided I just wanted to get this part over with, so there it is, lol. I hope your eyes didn't cross about halfway through. Well please review and let me know what you think. Did you like it, hate it, indifferent to it...? Should I go for shorter chapters next time? ;) I'd probably update a lot quicker if I did that. Well, I'll shut up now. Can you believe Christmas break is almost over? Grrr...school is starting again, but at least for me, it's my final semester! Muhahahahahaa! By May, I'll have a bachelor's degree in psychology (scary, huh?) Beebee, and take care!** 


	13. Chapter 12

*~*Author's note: Ok, this is more like it. I'd like to keep my updates regular. Is twice a month ok for you guys? I would actually like to update more often than that, but my schedule for this semester is INSANE! My professors are all lunatics. (Don't tell them I said that). Their work load for their classes is inhumane. Someone should report them. Anyways, here's the new chapter. It's not ridiculously long this time. It's a decent length- to me ;). When I read chapter, I like them to be a little over 10 pages, and that's what this one is. I hope you enjoy it, and thank you for all of the reviews. I decided to go ahead and start doing reviewer responses, because not everyone leaves an e-mail address so you can thank them personally. You'll see those at the end :).*~* 

Chapter 12 

It's my fault, Van couldn't help but think as he sat aboard the trading convoy staring at Allen's prone form. He was apart from the group with only Merle as company, as Allen's crew along with Hitomi hovered over the fallen knight. 

He hadn't fought as hard as he should have. One on one with Dilandau again, he felt strange, guilty even. He kept recalling their last meeting and how he'd nicked the pale boy's pretty face. Had the wound healed; did it leave a mark? It probably had, and that made him feel horrible. He had ruined something beautiful. He couldn't bring himself to fight Dilandau as he could have. He was willing to let himself be caught again, not only would that even the score, but maybe he'd get that time with Dilandau he longed for. The only downside would be: having to deal with Folken. He shuddered, he wondered how Dilandau got along with Folken? Did he hate him, like he'd claimed to hate Van before? Or worse, maybe Dilandau liked him. 

Folken always was the good-looking one in the family. He had taken after their mother. If Dilandau were to be attracted to anyone, it would probably be Folken...or even... Van shot a dark look at Allen. 

He sobered immediately as he noticed the sweat beaded across Allen's fair features. Now was not the time to be jealous that Allen could be the object of affection for not just Hitomi, but maybe Dilandau too. Damn it, he couldn't be tall, he couldn't be blond, he couldn't even have muscles! Who in their right mind would want him? 

He smiled softly to himself as Merle rested her fluffy head on his shoulder. He sighed and patted Merle's head gently. Merle would always want him. She was the only constant in his life. 

"Hello, isn't this a pleasant surprise?!" A familiar voice broke the tense silence in the room and all heads turned to see Princess Millerna entering. She stared at the grim faces in confusion and moved further into the room to see what Hitomi and Allen's crew were crowded around. "Oh my gods! Allen! What happened to him?" 

"He was injured in battle. He's bleeding on the inside, and this ship doesn't have a medic that can handle an injury like this," Gaddes informed her. 

Millerna frowned, "So what... you're just going to let him die? Can't we land somewhere, and..." 

Gaddes shook his head, "Not with those Zaibach bastards out there looking for us." 

"Princess, might I make a suggestion?" Everyone jumped at the new voice. It was the mole man that had helped Van escape from the cell Allen had him in. "Couldn't you help the knight? After all, you've studied medicine." 

"Only books, I've never actually practiced..." Millerna stammered. 

"But you do know to go about examining a body and treating it, right?" the mole man pressed, and Millerna nodded reluctantly. 

"Oh Millerna! You have to try!" Hitomi grabbed the Princess's arm. 

"But..." 

"You're his only hope. He won't make it to Freid, if we can't stop the bleeding!" Hitomi pleaded. 

Millerna sighed, her face was pale and her hands trembled. "Alright, fine...I'll try. But... I'll need some help. Gaddes, Kio, Reeden... I'll need you. Hitomi, if you can stand the sight of blood, I would be grateful for your assistance as well." 

Hitomi nodded, "I'll help in anyway I can. Thank you, Princess." 

Van sat silently with Merle watching as the preparations were made to save Allen. Inside, Van was thinking, good heavens that isn't me! Outside, he appeared stoic. Overall, he felt inculpative. In future battles, he would have to keep his mind on the fight, no matter who it was with, or valuable allies got hurt. 

The only good thing that had resulted from the disastrous situation was: they had a prisoner. Van smirked thinking about the arrogant dark-haired Avenger that had wanted to take his head off aboard his brother's fortress not so long ago. It was funny how the tables turned. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

This was degrading! How in the hell did Miguel manage to let himself be caught by these peasants. He glared at the dirty hands that had tied his hands behind his back and had shoved him into the dark store room he was currently in. 

Well, thank the gods he was alone. He shuddered at the thought of being locked away with another smelly prisoner. Prisoner, he, Miguel Lavariel, was a prisoner. Oi, Viole was never going to shut up about this one. 

Viole... he'd heard him cry out; had he been hurt? He worried about the state of his regiment. Lord Dilandau had been untouched; they'd all made sure of that. That thought alone made him feel a bit better, and the weight in his chest lightened. 

He shut his eyes against the dim settings of the store room and worked to still his shivers. It was chilly in the room on the account of the crates and sacks of salted meat and fresh vegetables. Miguel hated to think that these people would eat vegetables that had been kept in the same vicinity of raw meat. Had they never heard of parasites? 

He smirked wickedly, good. They would all get worms, and Miguel would be able to escape why they writhed in pain and overpopulated the bathrooms to find means to end their pathetic suffering. 

Erasing images of the Fanelian King holding his middle and knocking impatiently on a bathroom door, he began to think carefully about his situation. So, he was captured. This lot didn't seem like the type to torture anyone, but they would of course, demand military information from him. He couldn't give them any of that, so they would most likely execute him, or throw him in the duchy's prison for the rest of his life. He didn't look forward to either, so he would have to think of escape. His best chance of making a quick getaway would be soon, while he was simply aboard a virtually security-less trade ship, rather than when they reached Freid and he was tossed into a dungeon. But...what if Lord Dilandau was coming to rescue him? 

He felt no doubt that his Lord was thinking of him and wondered if he should just remain where he was, in total confidence he'd be freed by his comrades. It would certainly be easier. Trying to escape from this vessel, he may be killed on sight. The savages were already upset that their leader had been hurt... had even threatened to kill him, if their beloved boss died. Miguel had stuck, is nose in the air at their threats. He wasn't afraid of them...but he didn't want to be killed by them either. He would appreciate his death better if it came from an equal or someone who was his better. To be killed by dirty, second-rate servants of a knight was dishonorable. 

He reopened his eyes to stare into the darkness that encompassed him. He wouldn't act at all, for now. He couldn't afford to take the chance of being killed just yet. He would wait them out and see what their intentions were, then he'd think about escape...or by then Lord Dilandau would have sent someone in with something to let him know he was to be rescued. 

He nodded, Lord Dilandau would save him. He had total faith in the captain. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"This is shit," Dilandau growled, pacing around the small throne room before Folken. "Why won't you just let me send my Slayers after them. We had them in our grasp earlier. Schezar was as good as dead, and I was dealing with the Escaflowne...screw Freid!" 

"Dilandau, please, I know you're upset. I..." 

"UPSET?" Dilandau's voice shrilled. "Infuriated is more like it and..and... Gods Folken, let us go after them! It won't take long." 

Folken sighed, he was about to give up on trying to calm the boy. His agitation was beyond control, and Folken was starting to worry. "Dilandau, did you take...?" 

"NO!" Dilandau roared. "I'm never touching anything you give me again, Folken! I reacted like a damn slug out there! Miguel...he was... he was picking up my slack! That's how the damn dragon was able to catch him vulnerable. This is my fault! I should have known better than to go out on the field without testing myself first! Your medicine makes me useless in battle, Folken. It slows my reaction time and makes me drowsy. I can't use it. You'll have to find something else." 

"Dilandau, you know it's dangerous for you not to take the capsules regularly, especially when you're...agitated." 

"AGITATED?" Dilandau pounded both fists onto the small table and glared hard into Folken's eyes. He shook his head slowly, "Find something else Folken. I won't risk the lives of my Slayers like that again. I have to be able to make split-second decisions!" 

"Alright Dilandau, I will look into other treatments...but for now, please take the capsules. You're already trembling." 

Dilandau scowled down at his shaking hands as they rested on the table. "I have to plan an extraction for Miguel. They're going to put him in the dungeon in the duchy's palace. I won't have that." 

"Dilandau, I already have a plan formulated that will not only rescue your man, but also solve other problems we have right now. Allen Schezar and his convoy were likely on their way to tell the duchy of Freid that we plan to attack." 

"And how are you going to stop that? He's as good as there... unless you'd let me go and..." 

"No," Folken said firmly. The pale captain frowned deeply and let his body fall into the empty chair across from Folken. He rested his head in his hands and rubbed at his temples. 

"What then, Folken?" Dilandau mumbled. 

"You will see," Folken said, then gave a nod behind Dilandau to a presence he couldn't see, but knew was there. "Zongi, come forward." 

Dilandau removed his head from his hands to gaze about curiously; suddenly, he covered his nose in disgust, "What's that smell?" 

Folken hid a slight grin as the doppleganger materialized behind the boy and stood waiting to be acknowledged. Dilandau rose from his chair and nearly backed into the waiting body. He spun around at the last moment to notice the creature, and his eyes went double their normal size. Folken had to give him credit for not yelping in shock, though Folken could tell he wanted to. 

"Zongi, I have a mission for you." 

Dilandau's shock transformed itself into incredulity, "Folken, you cannot be serious! You are not sending a doppleganger after Miguel! They can't be trusted!" 

"Dilandau... Miguel is a prisoner of war, and he will be questioned. A special priest, named Plaktu, will be called in for the interrogation." 

"Miguel won't talk," Dilandau spat. 

"Miguel won't want to talk, but Plaktu can invade minds. He will get all the answers he needs from Miguel, and we cannot let that happen. Zongi will be sent out to intercept Plaktu's vehicle..." 

"And...kill and impersonate the priest," Dilandau sat back in his chair and brought his hands to his temples again. 

"Yes," Folken said. "And, once he's inside of the duchy's walls posing as Plaktu, the power will be in our hands. Miguel will be set free, the dragon surrendered, and Schezar will be thrown in jail." 

Dilandau nodded, not looking up to meet Folken's eyes. He was no doubt angry that Folken's plan made more sense than any of his would at that point. 

"I will need one of your Slayers to plant Zongi on Plaktu's ship, Dilandau," Folken said. 

"I'll do it myself," Dilandau muttered. 

"Fine," Folken knew he wouldn't be able to talk him out of it. "The move will be made in 2 hours; until then, get some rest." 

"Whatever." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Rest with this headache? Oh that should be easy, Dilandau wanted to snap back at Folken, but since he already knew what Folken's annoying response would be, he decided to keep his mouth shut. He left Folken alone in the company of the smelly doppleganger and went to seek out his Slayers. The Second and Third String, he figured, would be separated in their own rooms, but his Elite were probably all in one place. He didn't knock before entering Gatty and Shesta's room. Dallet, Guimel, Viole, Shesta, and Gatty rose to their feet, murmuring, "Sir," as they saluted. They waited until Dilandau seated himself on Shesta's bed to question him. 

"When are we going to get Miguel?" Viole was the first to get his question out. The usual joviality was gone from his pale face. His hands fidgeted in his lap and his lips remained in a straight line with a slight downturn at their edges. 

The other Slayers leaned in, awaiting the answer. They hadn't even relieved themselves of their weapons yet. Dilandau sighed deeply and studied each solemn face surrounding him before he spoke, "We're not...not yet anyway. Folken has another plan to free Miguel that doesn't involve us." 

"What? But Miguel is our own! How can he not involve us?" Dallet demanded. 

"His plan secures Miguel's release and protects Zaibach's interests," Dilandau said dully. 

"And that plan is?" Shesta inquired, frowning at Dilandau's vagueness. 

"A doppleganger," Dilandau grumbled, putting his hands back to his temples again and rubbing. "He wants to send in a damn doppleganger to do our job. He'll impersonate some important priest that the duchy will call in to question Miguel and plant it into the duchy's head that Schezar is a traitor and the dragon should be given to us. It sounds good, but..." 

"It's a doppleganger," Gatty concluded. "I don't trust it." 

"Neither do I," Dilandau said. He stared at his Elite; they were all looking at him expectantly. Certainly he had a fall back plan.... His Slayers had more faith in him than he did. He let himself flop back onto Shesta's pillow. "Folken trusts the doppleganger and thinks it will help us." 

He paused as he stared at the ceiling, racking his brain for something else to say to calm the nerves of his men. "We'll give him 3 days, after that, all bets are off, and we go get Miguel ourselves." 

"Three days?" Viole sounded uncertain. "Isn't that a long time, sir?" 

It was... but Dilandau had to give Folken's plan a small chance to work. Zongi wouldn't be placed until late this afternoon; it would take him a day to get to Freid, a day to set the plan into motion, and on the third day, Dilandau would expect to see Miguel unharmed...or he'd toast Freid and dear Zongi along with it. "We have to give Folken's plan time to work itself out." 

"Yes sir," Viole breathed. 

"When does this Zongi leave?" 

"In a couple of hours. I'm to deposit him aboard the Freid leviship." 

"You?" Shesta asked. 

"Why you, Lord Dilandau? Couldn't one of us go instead?" Gatty asked. 

"I'm perfectly fine with it," Dilandau said, shutting his eyes against the light. 

"Lord Dilandau, you're tired, and you're not well. Let one of us do it," Dallet said. 

It was so tempting. Shesta's bed was very inviting, and he could have easily stayed there all day. "Please?" Gatty asked softly. "It sounds like a very menial task; there's no way any of us could screw it up or get into trouble." 

"You can rest here," Shesta offered. "No one will disturb you." 

They just didn't give up and their arguments were very convincing. He didn't feel well; he was experiencing the temporary vertigo and nausea that were side effects of the medication wearing off. Gods he felt sick when he took it and sick when he didn't take it. Everything for him had to be so complicated! "Fine." 

"I'll do it," Gatty rose from his seat. "I'm going to find the Strategos and tell him of the change in plans." 

"Do you need anything, Lord Dilandau? Something to eat, drink..?" 

Dilandau shook his head. The thought of food made him sick. He frowned at the kindness of his Slayers. Why weren't they mad at him for failing them? He'd lost one of their comrades. He had proven that he couldn't protect them in battle.

"Have you had anything at all today?" Shesta asked. 

Dilandau was silent. He'd avoided Folken and his Slayers that morning, not wanting to see the disappointment in him in his Slayers faces and not wanting to be pestered by Folken to eat. 

"Lord..." 

"I thought you said I wouldn't be disturbed, Shesta," Dilandau said dully. He kept his eyes closed so he wouldn't see the hurt on Shesta's open face. 

"Sorry, sir," Shesta murmured. "We'll leave you alone." 

After he'd heard the last of them leave and the door close, he curled onto his side for more comfort. What was he going to do? What if something horrible had already happened to Miguel and he was sitting idle? Would Miguel be expecting him to come to his rescue? 

He swallowed harshly against the sour substance building in the back of his throat. He would have to come up with an escape plan for Miguel, if all didn't go well with Zong,i that wouldn't get him into trouble. His stomach lurched and he moaned softly in pain. This pain was worse than his medicated nausea and for a moment, he thought he should take Folken's pills. Then he cringed at the dependency he'd developed for the drugs in such a short period of time. 

He was so weak...what would she think of him? 

She? 

Celena. He tried to pull up a memory of her, one other than the recollection of her in the Sorcerers' lab stroking his hair. He knew he'd had more contact with her; he could feel it that he had. He wondered if he could undo whatever the Sorcerers had done to his mind and access his memories in his wakeful state. He knew he could do it in dreams; maybe he could discover a way to make himself remember one of those dreams. 

Another wave of pain and dizziness washed over him, and he happily let his conscious awareness fade in favor of the black bliss sleep gave him. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Van descended the steps of the torch lit dungeon purposefully. He wanted to talk with Avenger alone, before any priest of Freid interrogated him. Millerna had done a remarkable job on Allen, and the knight had made it through the surgery, though he was still recovering. He'd sat up straight for the first time since he'd regained consciousness to take Prince Chid's little arm in his large hand and told him Zaibach was going to attack the country. The small Prince, who looked suspiciously like a mix of Princess Millerna and Allen himself, had been shocked beyond words, but he'd nodded and went on to tell his advisors the warning Allen had given him. That was when Van learned of Plaktu, the priest coming to question Avenger in the absence of Chid's father, the Duchy. 

Van found he liked the little prince. He was cute and very kind. He hoped that kindness survived into his adult years. He had no idea what the boy's father was like, but he hoped he was a nice man. 

He walked past empty cells, until he found the one occupied by the arrogant Dragonslayer. Avenger sat with his knees to his chest staring fruitlessly at the stone wall before him. He didn't even turn at Van's approaching footsteps, "Is Zaibach coming to attack Freid?" 

Silence. 

"What do they want?" 

Quiet. 

Van smirked at Avenger's stony silence. He knew his first questions wouldn't be answered so easily, but he knew a way to get the boy to talk. "Do you think your leader will come to rescue you, or is he too afraid to face me again? Will he let you rot here, because he is too much of a coward to..." 

Van actually took a step back as Avenger threw himself at the metal bars caging him, his handsome face a mask of fury, "Do not ever speak of Captain Albatou in that way again, or so help me the moment I get access to a sword I'll slit you from navel to nose!" 

"I knew you could talk!" Van's smirk grew wider. "What was your name again? It starts with an 'M,' I believe." 

The Dragonslayer's eyes narrowed dangerously and Van jumped back, thinking the soldier was about to spit on him. "My name is of no importance to you, your majesty," the boy said acridly. "I suggest you leave now, for you will get no information from me. You may as well execute me now , because I will be of little use to you." 

"A priest is coming that will be able to make you speak, even if you don't want to," Van said coyly, his ever-present smile growing more. "A perfect stranger is going to know everything about you in mere minutes. I could spare you the embarrassment, if you'd just answer a few questions for me." 

Avenger studied him for a bit, cocking his head slightly. He opened his mouth as if he were going to start talking, and Van leaned forward in anticipation. Suddenly, Avenger wore a smirk of his own; he chuckled as he went to sit back in his original position and stared at the wall again. 

Damn. 

"Fine, have it your way then," Van breathed. "But I'll have you to know, we already know your troops are planning to invade Freid. I simply wanted to ask you about your commander. Is he... how does he fare? I hurt him, and I would like to know....did it leave a mark?" 

The Slayer shut his eyes and did not open them. 

"Surely you can tell me that without violating some soldier's code!" Van demanded of the stubborn prisoner. 

"Are you asking me so you that you may brag about what you've done, or because you feel guilty for doing it?" Avenger's voice was low and his eyes were still closed. 

Van gulped, "I...feel... guilty. I shouldn't have done it. I wasn't trying to hurt him, just disarm him. He was going to kill me, and I couldn't let him do that. I was clumsy. I could see he was not well. I didn't want to fight him." 

"Only kill him in his sleep," Avenger remarked bitterly. 

"No..." Van said. "I...I couldn't... I wasn't going to. I didn't think I'd have to. I thought you all would just give into my demands, and I would be able to let him go later. Things got so out of hand..." 

"And you expect me to be understanding about it? You could have killed my commander, twice. You've brought him great pain. For that, I cannot forgive you, nor spare you the sharp blade of my tongue. Leave now Fanelia, I have nothing more to say to you. I shall take my chances with this...priest." 

Van's shoulders stiffened. "I know it doesn't mean anything to you, but I told him I was sorry. I don't know if he heard me or understood me if he did." 

Avenger was silent. 

"Fine." Van left the damn cell feeling worse than he had when he'd come in, but really, what had he been expecting? He wanted to hear about Dilandau and his well-being, he wanted to hear his brother's plans, but he would get to listen to neither. Perhaps, if he offered the boy his freedom... That would never work out. Prince Chid had named him a friend of Freid and going around breaking out war prisoners was not a good way to sustain a friendship, or at least, that is what he'd heard from others. 

He passed one of the large, bald soldiers of Freid who nodded at him solemnly. No, the best thing he could do to sustain this friendship was to stay on task. According to Allen, Zaibach was going to attack the country. He couldn't think of how the enemy was faring, after all, that was how Allen had gotten hurt. He had tried to fight the addiction, in fact the only reason why he hadn't question Avenger earlier was because of the inner struggle. He needed to forget about Dilandau, and his guilt, and his...obsession. It was becoming unhealthy for all parties involved. 

He needed to be able to fight Zaibach, to fight Dilandau, without hesitation, and the first step he was going to take would be learning how to see through their invisibility cloaks as Hitomi could. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

"Have you had word from the doppleganger yet, Folken?" Dilandau walked into the white examining room of the clinic glaring at the red-haired medic Marie as she grinned at him in greeting. "He should be in Freid by now." 

Folken raised the syringe he held to eye level, tapping it lightly and checking for air bubbles. "It would be too perilous for Zongi to risk communication with the Vione now. Trust that he knows how to do his job, Dilandau." 

"I can't. I didn't train him," Dilandau grumbled. He looked from both Folken to Marie, "What do you want me to do?" 

"Sit down on the table there," Marie instructed kindly. "I want to monitor your pulse at rest." 

"It's going to be erratic, no matter what," Dilandau informed her. 

"Why's that?" Marie asked as she shined a light into his eyes. "Normal pupil dilation," she told Folken before nodding at Dilandau to answer. 

Dilandau scowled at her, "Shouldn't you already know? I haven't been taking that crap you and Folken created, and I'm feeling withdrawal effects." 

"Dilandau!" Folken nearly dropped the syringe he held. He knew something had been off about the boy, but when he asked, Dilandau always avoided the question. "I told you to tell me about fluctuations in your well-being. Withdrawal can be dangerous." 

Dilandau shrugged off Folken's ire, "I've just been really nauseous and my head hurts; it's nothing serious." 

Folken bit back a growl, not wanting his frustration to be so apparent. He laid a hand on the pale boy's forehead, relaxing a bit when he detected no sign of fever. The boy's skin was at an average temperature. 

"You've been doing a good job at keeping your tension level under control, Captain," Marie commented after applying a blood pressure cuff and writing down the readings. "We may not need to come up with a new treatment. Captain Albatou shows that when consciously aware of it, he can keep his emotions in check. Maybe we can just lower the dosage."

Dilandau frowned, "But the medication dulls my senses..." 

"It won't as much, in smaller doses," Marie countered. "Lord Dilandau, you cannot just stop taking the product. Your body has gotten used to its regulations, and you're going to start feeling worse if you continue to veer from the treatments. It would be better if you started taking the medicine again like you had been, and gradually, we will reduce the dosages. It's the healthiest choice you have." 

Dilandau was shaking his head, "It's a choice I can't make. I can't..." 

"Dilandau, this is your life," Folken said solidly. "Every day you go without taking the capsules, you put yourself at risk. Do you remember how close to having a heart attack you were a little more than a week ago? Do you remember how horrible you felt? Do you want all of that to return? Are you ready to relive the loss of control you experienced?" 

Dilandau's eyes brightened before losing their intensity; he lowered his head before uttering, "No." 

"Then you'll listen to me when I tell you what you have to do to remain healthy," Folken said briskly. He didn't like having to remind Dilandau of unpleasant things and having to scare him into submission, but certain measures were necessary when it came to Dilandau at times. "I'm going to draw some blood; relax your left arm." 

"So what of the Sorcerers? Have you learned anything new of Celena?" Dilandau asked. He obeyed Folken and relaxed his arm. 

Folken rubbed the pale area down with an antiseptic after massaging the tender skin at the inner side of his elbow for a good vein to tap into. He had done some further research on the being known as Celena and had come up with some shocking results. He learned that the girl was still in the custody of the Madoushi and undoubtably still alive, but when he'd tried to investigate that lead further, he was blocked from the current files. A new project was underway and it was apparently so top-secret, that the Strategos didn't have the authority to see it. He prayed they were not performing another Fate Alteration on the girl, although, he could see the logical reasoning behind it if they did. Celena had produced Dilandau, one of the most brilliant and effective Alterations they had ever accomplished. Maybe they had isolated the mistake made in Dilandau's process and were working to create another military genius. What would they do with Dilandau then? Folken shuddered to think that they might try to dispose of him if they were successful with another prototype. 

He hated thinking of Dilandau as a science project...a tool... but, in essence, he was. He didn't want to frighten Dilandau, so he figured he would not tell him that he supposed another Fate Alteration might be taking place, but there was also another bit of information Folken was debating on keeping to himself. Since he couldn't hack into the new files on Celena, he had accessed her old ones. There really hadn't been much he hadn't already known; the Madoushi files went on and one about chemical changes and Celena's progress, the creation and development of Dilandau, and so on... but somewhere in the document someone had slipped. Very early in the files, when Celena had first been acquired, she had given a last name to her abductors. That last name had been documented for the record, but later deleted in all accounts except for one. 

Folken had blinked at the name, recognizing it immediately and growing cold as he realized he should have seen it. It was pure hindsight bias, he knew, but Dilandau slightly resembled the man... Celena's last name was Schezar, and since Schezar wasn't a common name, Folken knew she was kin to the Knight Caeli, Allen. 

It seemed to be an amazing coincidence, but as Folken already knew, simple coincidences didn't happen in Zaibach. Everything was done for a reason, but did Folken really want to find out what that reason was? 

Dilandau flinched as the needle penetrated his flesh. Folken had tried to be as gentle as possible, "Celena is alive and still with the Madoushi, Dilandau." 

Dilandau moved suddenly, turning to face Folken and jostling the needle Folken held. "Dilandau, don't move!" Folken was already staring at the bloody mess the boy had created. The needle had ruptured the vein and blood was spilling onto the table. "Marie..." 

"I've got it," Marie held the syringe in place while Folken grabbed a stack of gauze pads to press against the torn vein to staunch the bleeding. 

"Is she ok, Folken? What are they doing to her? I doubt they are just letting her stay with them. They are probably making her do something awful. Is there anyway we could request for her to be brought here?" 

"I can't access her files Dilandau; they're classified," Folken applied direct pressure to the wound as the third gauze pad he pressed against it soaked through with blood. He frowned, "Marie, the blood's not clotting. Slowly pull the syringe out and lets elevate his arm." 

Once the needle was removed and Dilandau's arm was raised above his heart, more blood escaped. Folken was quick to adjust the gauze, making a pressure bandage, and to apply more napkins over the old ones as they became soiled. "Try a pressure point." 

Folken watched Marie roll Dilandau's sleeve up over his shoulder blades and press with one hand firmly against the brachial artery. 

"But you're the Strategos, things shouldn't be classified from you? They're doing something they don't want you to know about, and that can't be good. They're hurting her," Dilandau seemed oblivious to his current dilemma. 

"Folken, are you sure you got a vein and not an artery? Veins don't bleed like this, and the blood shouldn't be this bright of a red," Marie stared at the soaked bandages. It had been 10 minutes; the blood flow should have at least slowed. 

Folken was certain he'd chosen a vein, "It was a vein." 

"We might have to make a tourniquet. How are you feeling, Captain?" Marie asked, still pressing his brachial artery located on his underarm against the bone. 

"Maybe if you could get her location, I could just go..." 

"Shhh...Dilandau. You asked me to find her for you and I have. Until she's released from Madoushi custody, there is nothing more we can do," Folken stared at the blood still seeping through the cotton. "We'll have to make a tourniquet; the bleeding isn't slowing. Dilandau, do not worry about Celena; she is still of use to the Sorcerers. Are you light-headed?" 

"Still of use... like I'm still of use," Dilandau murmured. 

Marie released the pressure point and grabbed a pressure bandage to wrap twice just above Dilandau's elbow tightly and then tied an overhand knot. She then placed a plastic tongue depressor on the overhand knot and tied two overhand knots on top of it. "Folken, I'm going to twist it." 

Folken placed two fingers to Dilandau's neck to check his pulse. It was elevated, as was his respiration. "Dilandau, if there is anything I can do to help her, I will do it. Right now, your well-being is what I'm primarily concerned about, not hers. Think about yourself for a change. How do you feel?" 

Dilandau blinked, his complexion was waning and his eyelids were drooping. "Tired. What...did you do? Is all of this blood mine?" 

"Yes it is," Folken said, applying another pad and sighing in relief when it didn't soak through with blood. "It's stopped, Marie." 

Marie secured the depressor with a torn strip of gauze and made note of the time. "Dammit, we should have been more prepared for this. His red and white blood cell counts have been lower than what is average, as has been his platelet volume. We were too optimistic, Folken." 

"What are you talking about?" Dilandau's voice was soft as he allowed himself to rest against Folken's offered support. "What's wrong with me now?" 

"It's a side effect of the medication, Dilandau. Do not worry about it; we'll treat it." 

"The best treatment would be a blood transfusion, or maybe even a bone marrow transplant...but it would take some time to find an adequate match. Chemical treatment seems the most plausible right now, but I don't want to give him any more medication," Marie sighed.

Folken agreed with not wanting to inject any more foreign chemicals into Dilandau's bloodstream. They'd done enough already, but it was the best option they had. It could take months to find a worthy blood or bone marrow donor. He thought briefly on requesting fortune blood, but he had no idea how Dilandau would react to such a process. The shock alone might kill him. He patted the boy's back gently as more of his weight was pressed into his body. 

"Hold his arm steady Folken; I'm going to loosen the tourniquet." 

Folken nodded and held Dilandau still as Marie untied the depressor and loosened the tourniquet. No more blood escaped, and they both sighed. "I'll wrap it all up," Marie volunteered. 

"This is a problem. We can't cease his current treatment without acute withdrawal affects, but the treatment is causing his current condition of aplastic anemia. I think we've made a mistake, but it seemed the best route at the time." 

"It probably still is the best route. He couldn't continue on like he was; this can be treated. We'll use drugs, until we can find a matching donor. Meaning: we'll have to tap into the Zaibach health records and look at everyone's blood type. Maybe we'll be lucky, and one of his men will share his same blood type," Marie said carefully. She checked Dilandau's pulse and respiration, then slid a thermometer under his tongue. "One of the Dragonslayers should be summoned to come and collect him, then put him to bed. We, my dear Strategos, have more work to do." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Viole and Dallet carefully led their tipsy leader back to his room after they received summons from the Strategos. They tucked him into bed and blew out his lantern. "He's just getting worse," Viole whispered to Dallet as they left the room. "I don't think the Strategos knows what he's doing anymore. He's just trying things." 

Dallet sighed in agreement, "I wish they would tell us what's wrong. I don't know anything about medicine, but maybe I could learn. We could help them look for things. How hard could research be for real? I bet anyone could do it." 

Viole chuckled colorlessly, "Don't belittle the work of geniuses Dallet. We'll leave the science to Folken and other weirdos who understand that stuff. I just... think Lord Dilandau's got something no one's heard of yet. That happens on occasion. You know, like all those diseases we read about in history, where millions of people die before anyone gets even a slight inkling of what may be wrong with them?" 

"Gods Viole, don't say that! When did you get so morbid?" Dallet gave the wavy haired boy a playful shove. "Cheer up. I'll even let you tell me a joke. Come on, I bet you've come up with tons since the last time you... you insulted Miguel." 

Viole's eyes glistened a bit and shook his head, "No, not really Dallet. It's hard to make up jokes to irritate Miguel when there's no Miguel around to irritate. He's so funny. I mean, I make up jokes about you guys, and you roll your eyes and shrug them off. I make up jokes about Miguel, and he gets all huffy and pissy. It's inspiring to see my jokes stir such emotion in someone else, even if its not the desired reaction. I kind of want him to laugh, just once." 

Dallet smirked, "The day Miguel Lavariel laughs at himself is the day one of the nine hells freezes over." 

"I thought there were only seven," Viole frowned. "Hmm... I learn new things everyday." 

Dallet laughed and ruffled Viole's hair, "Lets go tell the others Lord Dilandau's all right, and that we're going to have to change our rescue plans. Lord Dilandau won't be joining us." 

"You gonna tell Lord Dilandau that when the time comes tomorrow?" Viole raised an eyebrow. 

"Hell no, you're gonna tell him. He likes you." 

"Not as much as he likes you," Viole argued, then looked serious. "Do you really think we're going to have to break Miguel out ourselves?" 

"You trust dopplegangers?" Dallet asked. 

"No." 

"Then yes, I think we're going to have to get Miguel back ourselves. The kid may be arrogant, conceited, annoying, and pig-headed, but...that's why we love him," Dallet said. "We look after our own...we'd even go in after you, Viole." 

"Well that's...hey!" 

"Come on, before Shesta decides we've gotten lost and comes to see about Lord Dilandau himself." 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Miguel heard the deep voices of two older men conversing outside of his cell. One man asked to be left alone with him, and Miguel shuddered. Plaktu had undoubtably arrived to question him. 

He couldn't say a word, not a single word. He wouldn't even look at him. Footsteps. The sound of hard-bottomed sandals striking the stone floor made him cringe as it grew nearer. There was a soft wrap on the metal bars, and Miguel fought not to turn his head and look at his latest guest. 

"You must be Miguel," the man said, and Miguel froze. How would the man have known his name? No one here did, not even Van. He had spoken of his identity to no one. Slowly his head turned to gaze at the large bald man dressed in the bright orange priestly robes of Freid. "I have been sent by Lord Folken. I've come to help you." 

Miguel blinked and slid closer to the bars to stare at the strange man. He hadn't known there were Zaibach spies in Freid. He narrowed his eyes; it could easily be a trick. "Who are you?" 

"I am Zongi, and in order to complete my mission, I will need your complete cooperation. Lord Dilandau will be extremely displeased if anything happens to you, so you must listen to me." 

Lord Dilandau... Miguel shut his eyes briefly, then opened them. "How do I know I can trust you?" 

"You have been trained well, young Dragonslayer. You _don't_ know if you can trust me. You can test me all you like to see how much I know about Zaibach, but none of your questions could prove me worthy. You'll have to go by your instinct, but I'll let you know now, you will not stand in the way of my mission. My first priority is to protect the interest of Zaibach, so I will need to invalidate any warning Allen Schezar may bring to Freid against Zaibach. I will have your cooperation in that task whether it be voluntary or involuntary, understand? My second priority is your life, and you are the one who will make the decision of whether you live or die. Do you wish to escape?" 

"Yes." 

"Then you will trust me. Now, tell me everything you have learned about the Escaflowne and the knight Allen Schezar. What all transpired in your last battle?" 

Miguel stared into the abysmal black eyes of the priest standing before, shivering, in spite of himself, at their soullessness. Something told him this man wasn't what he seemed to be and that his very life did hang in the balance if he didn't behave. There was still a chance it was a ruse, but his gut instinct told him it was not. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth to speak. His voice was low and shaky, but try as he might he couldn't squeeze the fear out of it. This man's eyes told of death; his body reeked of it. He'd been held in enemy custody for days, but only then did he begin to fear his own death for he was looking it right in the face. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

*~* AN: Dum, Dum, Dum!! Hehehehehee!! So, will I kill Miguel, or will I keep him around? I haven't quite decided yet... Well, actually I have; I'm just not telling . Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah! Muhahahaha!! Thank you for reading and please, please review! 

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Reviewer Responses: 

Rita: Eh, writing reviewer responses won't slow my updates, and I do want to. I just didn't want to seem like I was copying other people. I'm glad you like how I portray Celena. In most of the stories I read, she is written to be rather girly. I must admit I am one of the people who watch the series and get mad everytime it is discovered Dilandau is...a woman. And when he reverted back to Celena for good, the first thing she did was faint! I hated that, because I just thought it was strange for someone like Dilandau to have been born from that. There had to be something in her that could have contributed to his personality a bit, so I came up with Amazon Celena ( and she's fun). I'm glad you like the chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one as well. Thanks for reviewing! 

Nikku: Well, this chapter isn't as long as the others. I hope you aren't too disappointed, but I think the length of the chapters are scaring potential readers away, lol. Sorry you don't like my mean, nasty Celena. Hehehe, you are going to think I'm crazy, but my favorite characters in anime usually fit that category (Dilandau, Lady Une from Gundam Wing, Lady Kayura from Ronin Warriors, ect). In order to make Dilandau a character for people to sympathize with, I made him a little nicer, but when you tip one side of the scale down, the other goes up; Celena had to be meaner. Glad you like the mothering scenes with the Slayers; they are so much fun to write. You'll see what Dilandau will decide to do with Folken's medicine (hehehe) and as for Miguel and the Dragonslayers.... That's for me to know ;) Thanks for reviewing and I hope you like this next chapter. 

Biatchmaspaz: Geez, could your name be any harder to spell without looking at it, lol! Well, I took your advice and broke the chapter up. You like? So, let me get this straight: if I kill Miguel and the other slayers, you're going to gut me with your little pocket knife? Well, I got a big dog and a mashettit, if you can get past them, you're welcome to try...MUHAHAHAHA! But who says I'll kill them? Guess you'll just have to read and find out. Thanks for reviewing chica! 

Nat: College is rather overwhelming, isn't it? Especially when every teacher you have assumes their class is the only one you are taking. Well, I hope this update was soon enough for you, lol. I'm going to try to keep my updates regular from now on. When I was working on this story during the summer I used to update once a week, lol I don't know if I'll be able to do that again...but twice a month is a good goal, huh? I'm glad you like the story, and thanks for reviewing! 

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You guys can e-mail me anytime at gremlioni@aol.com . And don't forget to review! ;) Take care! 


	14. Chapter 13

~*~Author's Note: Hello! Look at me, three updates in one month! I am so good, lol! Well, this is the chapter where I really get deviate from the Escaflowne plot. I'm so excited lol. This chapter is shorter than a lot of my others (though short for me, means just over 10 pages, lol) so it should be a semi-quick read. Lots of action and junk... Hope you like it! I put reviewer responses at the end of the chapter! Hope you enjoy!~*~  
  
  
  
  
  


Chapter 13   
  
  
  


"She's remarkable," General Adelphos nodded his approval of the female soldier that stood before him at attention. "But I don't know how well men will take to having a woman in command."

"When they see what she can do, they'll over look that."

Adelphos stared hard at the three Madoushi who'd come bearing the gift of a new warrior fresh from their lab. "How is she in relation to Dilandau?"

"She is his superior," the tallest one smirked arrogantly. "We request permission to remove Dilandau from his position so that we can make some enhancements. We are afraid he is becoming obsolete."

Adelphos didn't decrease the harsh intensity of his gaze, "What sort of enhancements? I have had no reports of bad conduct from him, since you made your last adjustments."

"But you've had reports of failure."

"Acceptable," Adelphos countered. "The dragon was within reach, the mission was aborted to protect future plans. Dilandau's performance has been satisfactory."

"The Emperor wishes his soldiers to be exemplary not merely adequate. If you will grant us the permission to take him with us, we will return him to you at optimum level. Until then, we leave you with our newest candidate worthy of rank and title."

Adelphos scowled as he suddenly realized he had no real say in the matter. Even if he cared enough to question the procedures to be done on Dilandau and found them not to his taste, the orders given to the Madoushi were over his head. They were simply being polite and making it seem as if he held the power in the relationship. He sighed and put a hand to his temple. He sat back on his throne and let his eyes find their way back to the girl. She was tall with short blond hair caught back in a severe braid with no hair falling over her forehead. Her dark purple eyes were piercing and dangerous as they stared at him defiantly. Her small chin was held high and her graceful shoulders were pulled back. She wore the uniform of a Zaibach soldier and certainly had the arrogance of one. Adelphos wanted to add in his description of her, that she was pretty...but the rigid military harshness in her frame shook that assessment from his mind. 

"And what shall I call this new soldier of mine?" he asked, his voice flat.

"Valesca."

"And where shall I place her?"

"I believe there is an opening on the Revere. She will be a welcome addition to the crew there, along with her new team of specialist that she will personally pick herself from your ship."

Adelphos nearly bit his tongue. His ship?! He nodded, careful not to flinch.

"Thank you for your time, General. This hour has been most productive. I trust you will show Valesca to a room where she may start preparing for her first drafting session?"

Adelphos waved a hand to summon an attendant to lead Valesca away. The girl gave a very un-lady-like bow to the General and rose with a smirk to follow the attendant out of the throne room. 

"Good day, General." 

Adelphos watched the three Sorcerers glide away and retreat through the doors their creation had passed through. 

What in Gaea just transpired here? He wondered to himself. Ugh. He needed some vino. He waved a hand to summon his attendant and realized that... "Dammit!" he'd sent the man off with Valesca!

What was this world coming to?  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't eat that," Lord Dilandau's face was impossibly pale as he tried to avoid making visual contact with the hot porridge Viole had brought in. 

Viole frowned down at the steaming golden-brown porridge that he had so carefully folded strawberries into. "Lord Dilandau, maybe if you just tried a little of it..."

"No, take it away," Lord Dilandau moaned, he rolled onto his side in the large bed, turning away from Viole. 

Viole sighed and set the small silver tray, that the porridge perched on top of, down, and came to sit on the side of Lord Dilandau's bed. The silver-haired captain had bathed and dressed for the day, but he hadn't left the room at all. He had completely missed morning warm-ups, which Gatty and Shesta had led. After the missed session, Shesta had requested for Viole to come with him to check on their Lord. They found him sitting on the rim of his cold milky bathtub in soft black pants and a sleeveless white shirt, clutching his left arm which was encased in ruby stained bandages. Viole nearly cried out, thinking Lord Dilandau had just obtained the wound and had tried to take care of it himself. It was level-headed Shesta that noticed the blood on the bandages was old. The blond had knelt before Lord Dilandau, who stared at them lifelessly, and began to undress the wound. The punctured area was a deep purple, but much too small to have been the source of all of the blood that had soiled the many crusty bandages Shesta had unwound. Viole had stood still, in shock, holding things as Shesta shoved them his way, while the blond worked to clean the affected area. No one spoke while Shesta cleansed and re-wrapped the wound loosely with a fresh bandage roll that had been sitting idly on the porcelain sink. 

"'It wouldn't stop bleeding, yesterday," Lord Dilandau had said, as they helped him to his feet. "'I was afraid it would start again if I unwrapped it."'

Shesta had nodded, "'Lord Folken told me as much. He wants you to rest today. Gatty and I will handle anything that needs to be done, and Viole...will bring you some breakfast."'

And so, there he was, Breakfast Boy. Everyone seemed at a loss at what to do with a somber Viole. They rarely knew what to do with the abnormally hyper one, so what to do with this new one? The other Slayers were being so unusually nice to him it was making him feel slightly ill. Would Lord Dilandau kill him if he laid down too? 

"The porridge wasn't so bad this morning, sir," Viole offered, watching Dilandau's back rise and fall slowly. 

"It better not be bad any morning," Lord Dilandau grumbled. "I won't allow my Slayers to be served anything beneath satisfactory."

"It's not that it's bad food. It's just.... healthy-tasting. I, for one, would prefer something high in sugar, low in oats," Viole said. He smiled a bit as Lord Dilandau rolled over to look at him.

"You would say that," Lord Dilandau smirked. "How can you eat it?"

"Eat what? Sweet stuff? Easy," Viole shrugged, taking the chance and swinging his legs up onto the bed. "It's so good. I swear when I was little all I would refuse to eat anything else, and I was so spoiled, no one argued with me. It's a wonder I don't weigh 300 pounds."

"You're not a heavy eater, Viole. A slice of cake is a meal to you," Lord Dilandau pointed out. "The reasons why you don't blow away, is because of those cakes and muffins you like so well."

Viole grinned, pleased that his Lord was making conversation with him, and also he liked knowing just how much attention Lord Dilandau paid him. "And what keeps you from blowing away, Lord Dilandau?"

"All my heavy armor," Lord Dilandau narrowed his eyes, not willing to let himself be tricked by Viole throwing his own words back at him.

"You're not wearing it now," Viole quipped. "So, if you don't wish to be carried away, you had better eat. I put strawberries in it and everything."

"I'll be sick," Lord Dilandau whispered, shaking his head slightly. "It hurts too much to be sick. I... I'm sorry, Viole. I'm letting you all down."

"No way," Viole argued, his grin fading, "never. Why do you feel like that?"

Lord Dilandau snorted, "You don't have to play dumb reverence with me, Viole. I'm weak; I let Folken tell me what to do. We should have gone after Miguel, but I... Gods, Viole. I don't understand why you still follow me." 

Viole blinked, "Because you're our leader, Lord Dilandau. We've pledged ourselves to you. It's almost like a marriage, you know? In sickness and in health? Til death do us part? It'd be pretty awful of us to abandon you. You actually need us, now. Before, we never understood why you picked us. You're the ultimate soldier; you didn't need our help. Sometimes, I thought we were getting in your way. It's kind of nice to feel needed, Lord Dilandau. Not feeling well is not being weak. Everyone has their good and bad days, and now, it's finally your turn. Relax and let us take care of you. We have everything under control. Tomorrow, we get Miguel, if the doppleganger still isn't back. Shesta has a plan all worked out. I think he said he was going to go over it with you tonight."

Lord Dilandau pushed himself up on one elbow and cocked his head at Viole, "Miguel is your partner... why aren't you angry at me, Viole? Miguel was saving my skin and got taken instead of me."

"That's what he was supposed to do. Our job is to protect you. I would be pissed if Miguel was here and you were not! I'm proud of him and when he gets back, I might let him know it. But, you know, Miguel's head is already big enough, he might not be able to fit through the door of our room after hearing me say he did me proud. Maybe I should keep it to myself, then, huh? Yeah..." 

"You talk too much to keep anything to yourself, Viole," Lord Dilandau snorted. 

"I wish people would quit saying that," Viole pouted. "It makes me feel as if you all think I'm annoying or something silly like that."

A muffled noise escaped Lord Dilandau and Viole grinned devilishly. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No." Another chuckle.

"I'm glad you find me so amusing," Viole fluffed a pillow behind him. "At least someone does. I just don't feel appreciated at times."

"Viole, believe me," Viole's eyes widened and he started when Lord Dilandau's hand touched his elbow, "you are appreciated and needed. It's why I chose you and why I always pair you with Miguel. Tense soldiers make mistakes..."

"Miguel didn't make mistakes," Viole said softly, as Lord Dilandau paused, his voice catching. "I guess you chose right with me then, huh?"

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"So, how about that porridge?"

"Fine," Lord Dilandau grumbled. "I'll try. If I throw up..."

"You can do it all over me," Viole raised his hands. "It will be entirely my fault and I deserve to be marked for it."

"I bet Miguel misses you," Lord Dilandau whispered.

"Yeah." 

I know I miss him...

"I'll get him back for you."

Viole smirked as he placed the tray over his captain's lap and laid a hand on his shoulder, "I know you will."  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Folken sighed deeply and looked at Marie who was pulling off her lab gloves. "So... what are we going to do? We may not have time to wait for a donor, but the side effects of immunosuppressive drugs may kill him."

Marie sighed, "We can start him on a mild intravenous antilymphocyte globulin, after testing him for skin allergies first. We'll just keep him in here to monitor him, see how he takes to it."

"But he's so weak; on that treatment, a simple cold could wipe him out for weeks," Folken shook his head. "We don't have many options, and I fear we're running out of time."

"Folken, Dilandau has plenty of time for us to try what ever needs to be done in his best interests. But..." Marie stared at Folken, her green eyes troubled as she fiddled with her gloves, "I don't think that's what you mean by we're running out of time. Do you think they...?"

"I've been completely cut off from the Sorcerer's mainframe. They are doing something they don't want me to know about, and the only reason why they would do that is if it concerns Dilandau. They know I..." Folken took a deep breath. "He's not just another insolent captain under my jurisdiction aboard my fortress. I..."

"You care about him?" Marie blinked, "So what? Any idiot can see that. Was it supposed to be some sort of a secret? You fret over that kid like he's family; you always have. From the moment he first stepped aboard the Vione, you've been playing the role of an older brother, sort of. I say,' sort of,' because you're a strange one, at times, Folken. Some of your methods weren't always conventional, but... I always thought it was kind of sweet. I personally didn't see what you saw in that kid...until now. Who would have known under that cocky exterior laid a very sensitive little boy- but you?"

Folken remained quiet as he brooded over the next move they should make with Dilandau. "Perhaps, we should let Dilandau decide his treatment. Anything we choose can potentially hurt him. We'll give him all of the information he needs, and we'll do what he wants."

"He may choose not to be treated, Folken. Would you respect that decision, if he made it?" Marie questioned, raising an eyebrow.

Folken winced. Without treatment, Dilandau would surely perish. The boy was too young to choose a route that would lead to his end, unless... Unless he thought any treatments would hamper his fighting abilities, and his Slayers would be in danger. Oh Dilandau. 

Folken lowered his head, "I'll have to. It is his life, after all. He won't benefit from a forced treatment, so if he declines our offers..."

Marie nodded solemnly, "All right then."

"I will go to Dilandau and deliver the news to him in his quarters. He may take it better there."

"Whatever you feel is best, Folken," Marie finally tossed the useless gloves she'd been toying with into a waste basket. "If he chooses not to...and you need someone to...talk to... you know I'm here for you, right? I know how much..."

There was a knock at the door, and Folken looked at Marie apologetically before calling to the person outside the door of his lab to enter. A herald stepped into the room looking rather nervous, "Lord Folken... Two Sorcerers have arrived with soldiers. I think they mean to collect Lord Dilandau. You hadn't said anything about them coming or his departure, so I thought I should inform you of their presence here."

Folken's heart leapt into his throat. The Madoushi were here? Oh gods... 

"Lord Folken...?"

Folken's fought the tremors that wanted to flood his body, "Pearce, Dilandau's men will be in the mess hall; please alert them that their captain needs them most urgently. Tell them he is in danger and to protect him and to get him off the Vione at all costs."

"My Lord," Pearce bowed. 

The herald hurried from the room, and Folken turned to Marie, "You didn't hear any of that, understood?"

"Yes sir," Marie quipped, looking nervous. "They'll harm him if they get their hands on him again, possibly kill him... won't they?"

"They won't touch him," Folken said in a final voice. "His men have their orders, and they'll protect him to the death. Dilandau will be spared this day. I have to get to the main control room to make sure all the hangars stay open. Go back to the clinic and stay there, Marie."

"All right. Folken, you'll be court marshaled, if anyone finds out what you've done. Pearce could..."

"That loyal man wouldn't tell a soul," Folken said. "No one will have to know a thing, unless you'd like to tell them."

Marie shook her head "no."

"Then go," Folken slipped out of the lab, leaving the dazed red-haired woman behind. 

The Madoushi were going to take Dilandau... 

That wouldn't happen, even if Folken himself had to take up arms and defend him. But if Dilandau escaped, what would he do out there in the world? Without adequate medical care, he would die. 

He pushed the thoughts aside; they were not important right now. What was important was that Dilandau survive this day; they would worry about the later days at another time. 

The internal alarms sounded, the loud bells resonating through every hallway. The Dragonslayers were probably engaged in battle as Folken moved to keep open their only means of escape. 

Hurry, he had to hurry. Dilandau's men were good, but they were not gods, and they would soon succumb to the force of the Madoushi's personal guards and the other dozens of soldiers aboard the Vione that had a personal vendetta against Dragonslayers.   
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

Dilandau had drifted into a light sleep after stomaching half a bowl of warm porridge. It really hadn't been that bad, as Viole had promised. He was still feeling the tiring aftereffects of the blood loss from the other day and the general malaise of his overall condition. Viole was still sitting on the bed beside him, sketching pictures of his diadem. Every now and again, he could sense the boy's concerned gaze on him. Once or twice he felt a comforting hand rub his back.

Dilandau would have felt perfectly content, if it weren't for Miguel's absence. He would have even agreed to let Folken drug him some more. He shivered slightly and frowned when he felt Viole roll off the bed. A few seconds later he heard the wafting sound of a blanket being shaken out and something warm, soft and clean-smelling fell over his curled body. The bed squeaked and depressed, meaning Viole had climbed back onto it. He held still as the wavy-haired Slayer tucked the blanket around him. "I make a good, Mama, huh?" Viole chuckled lightly to himself; unbeknownst to him, Dilandau was still very much aware of his surroundings.

"Better than Shesta," Dilandau informed him, hiding a smirk as Viole jumped.

"I thought you were asleep..."

"I am; so, leave me alone," Dilandau murmured. He opened his eyes a crack to peek at Viole's bewildered expression, then closed them again.

"Stop talking to me then," Viole snorted. Dilandau pulled his knees in closer to his chest and nestled into the blanket. Relax...he told his body, just go to sleep...

His sharp ears perked up as the door to his bedroom was opened without a proceeding knock. No one entered his room without knocking! He sat up, his outrage deafening his ears to Viole's startled silence. He should have wondered why Viole hadn't spoken, when it was obvious he had seen who'd entered unannounced. Dilandau's eyes blazed as they darted to the door and... His mouth dropped open in horror and terror overloaded every active nerve in his body , "Oh gods..." 

The Madoushi... Two tall Sorcerers loomed in the doorway, smiling at him. "Ah, here you are Dilandau. We've come to make you all better. Come to us."

Dilandau trembled violently and grabbed hold of Viole's arm as Viole's eyes finally tore away from the Madoushi and focused on him. "Lord Dilandau, what do they want?"

"Do not be foolish, Dilandau; come now."

"Please...please leave me alone," Dilandau stammered; he gasped as Viole freed himself of Dilandau's arm and leapt from the bed, grabbing up the sword he'd deposited by the night table. 

"Look, I don't know what you want, but you're upsetting Lord Dilandau. I'm asking you to leave, now," Viole's voice was strong and his dark-blue eyes fierce. 

No...they would hurt Viole, too. 

"Silly boy, you cannot give us orders. Dalton, Firenze, hold Dilandau so that I may sedate him; he is being difficult. Sears, restrain the other boy."

Three burly soldiers Dilandau had never seen before entered the room so suddenly that Dilandau would have missed them if he'd been able to blink. He heard the heavy clashes of steel meeting steel as Viole was engaged in combat with the one called Sears. Dilandau, himself, was seized and held still as the two Sorcerers floated further into the room, one holding a large syringe. 

Dilandau fought against the two men restraining him, but they held him too tight, and one pressed hard on his injured arm. He felt the hot stickiness of blood coating and rushing down the limb. He moaned in pain and swooned in weakness and fear. 

"This could have been avoided, if you'd just learn to behave like the good boy we made you to be," the Sorcerer with the needle tsked, shaking his head. Dilandau screamed as the needle neared his neck. "Hold still boy, this will hurt you, if you don't."

No...no....not again! He screamed and screamed, choking as the needle burrowed into the soft skin of his neck and its venom was injected. Tears ran down his face and his breaths came in huge gasping sighs. "Calm yourself, Dilandau... this is just going to make you go to sleep for a little while. When you wake up, you'll be all better."

"Leave me alone....please..." Dilandau continued to whisper as he slid out of consciousness and sagged bonelessly in the arms of his captors.   
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lord Dilandau!" Shesta cried as he heard the frantic screams. "They've gotten to him already! They're hurting him!"

"I'll kill them," Gatty growled. All thirteen Dragonslayers flew through the hallways of the ship to meet with the men who'd come to harm their captain. Four burly foreign soldiers stood in the hall, blocking the door. "Get them out of the doorway!" Gatty roared. At his command, Refina, Biore, Tristan, and Ryuuon surged ahead of him to battle with the enemy guards. Gatty elbowed through the conflict and was the first to throw himself into the bedroom; he flew in a rage toward the two Sorcerers hovering near Lord Dilandau, swinging his sword like a madman. Dallet, Guimel, and Shesta poured in after him, Guimel going to Viole's aid, Shesta and Dallet attacking the two soldiers restraining Lord Dilandau's seemingly unconscious frame.

The internal alarm was pulled from somewhere within the ship, but the Slayers kept fighting on. They knew every soldier on board was going to come to the aid of the Sorcerers and their men and they would be outnumbered, but there was no way they were going to give up this fight.

The two men holding Lord Dilandau were dead, as were the two Sorcerers. Dallet and Shesta quickly caught the captain's limp body between them. "What do we do? The other soldiers are coming, and we'll be tried for treason! They'll execute us... kill Lord Dilandau..." Guimel was stammering, he was spattered with enemy blood. The Elite, Dallet carrying their leader, stumbled out into the hallway to join the rest of their team who looked as stricken as they did. 

"Gatty?" All eyes turned to their temporary leader.

"We just killed Sorcerers....and their guard... We've sinned against Zaibach; we've become traitors..." Brian was shaking.

"What do we do, Gatty?"

Gatty ran a blood stained hand through his blond hair, leaving a sticky red streak, "We...we haven't done anything wrong. We didn't swear an oath to Zaibach, we swore to Lord Dilandau. They were going to hurt him... Folken said... We protected our Captain, like we are supposed to, and we are still going to continue doing that. If we remain, they'll try to hurt him again... We have to get off the Vione!"

"Desert? We're going to desert Zaibach?"

"We're not deserting anyone," Gatty said cooly. 

"I hear soldiers!" Andre shouted. "We can't take them all!"

"We can try!" Dallet roared. "We'll go down fighting!"

"No, we have to save Lord Dilandau!" Refina shouted. She closed her eyes and then opened them, staring at the Elite who were unintentionally standing away from the other two lower-ranking groups. It was how it always was, the Elite were always separate from them...always destined and designated for the more important tasks. "Gatty, you and the Elite have to take Lord Dilandau and get out of here. The rest of us will cover you!"

"What?" Gatty blinked at the orders. He stared at the girl wide eyed, "Ref..."

"Take him and go!" the girl cried.

"But you'll all be in danger, you could all be killed! You can't stand without us!"

"Lord Dilandau won't stand a chance if you keep him here!"

"How do the rest of you feel about this?" Gatty asked, after backing down from Refina's wild glare.

The young faces of the Second and Third String Slayers were pale and grim, their eyes were scared, but their heads nodded. "Please let us fulfill out duties to Lord Dilandau. Let us help save him," Andre pleaded, his eyes bright.

Shesta sighed, Guimel bit hi lip, Viole shut his eyes, Dallet took a deep breathe, but it was Gatty who spoke. "All right you've got your orders... Second and Third String will shadow the Elite, fencing them in from outside attack until we reach the docking bay. Whoever is left will enter their Alseid and fall into formation. Whoever falls behind...stays behind...."

"Yes sir!"

"Lets move!"  
  


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shesta's heart was in his throat for the entire run. The Vione's soldiers had broken through the tight circle a few times, and he had minor cuts from flailing swords to show for it. Dallet was the only one untouched, because he held Lord Dilandau. They kept him at the center and pushed him forward. Their only escape was the hangar; they had to get to their Alseides. 

Folken would keep the hangar open...he had to. He was the one that had told them something was wrong. He wanted them to fight against the Madoushi and get away. They weren't really traitors if the Strategos ordered it. They wouldn't really execute them if caught. 

He heard the dying cry of one of his comrades... Sergio. Gods... 

His heart hardened, these soldiers didn't care... Even if it wasn't Zaibach's intention to have them killed, they would kill them. These soldiers wanted Slayer blood...

They hate us.

They hate Lord Dilandau.

"Approaching the hangar, Shesta, Guimel, flank Dallet! Get him in his Alseid..."

"Lord Dilandau won't fit inside with me! I'm too big!" Dallet shouted at Gatty, who turned to run a soldier, who'd broken the circle, through with his sword. 

"I'm the smallest!" Shesta announced, "I'll take him!"

"Can you carry him?" Dallet yelled, already trying to transfer Lord Dilandau's dead weight onto Shesta's shoulders. Shesta braced himself for the unbalance, careful not to drop his leader. He was prepared to stumble and have to stagger forward, but Lord Dilandau turned out to be light as a feather.

"I got him, Dallet!" Shesta hollered triumphantly. "I'm going for my Alseid as soon as we break through the doors!" 

The hangar was sparsely populated, the soldiers there looked surprised to see the legion of Dragonslayers charging through the doors, swords ready. Shesta felt himself being propelled from behind to the first Alseid available. The hatch opened and Shesta had to pass Lord Dilandau to Dallet while he climbed in. Dallet then slid Lord Dilandau into his lap, and Shesta closed the hatch. 

They were inside. They were safe... for the time being. He heard the sounds of battle outside and the screams of pain and agony from fallen comrades. 

No tears...this is no time for tears... You knew when you signed up for this half of the people you met weren't going to survive the entire war, so pull yourself together. Shesta took a deep, calming breath and rearranged Lord Dilandau in his lap, making sure he could reach all of his controls. 

Should he leave? Was he waiting for the others? What if he was attacked while in the air? They needed a plan, but no one had time to make one!

His radio crackled to life, "Shesta, are you ok?"

"G...Gatty? Yes, I'm fine. Lord Dilandau's fine...I think." Shesta frowned at the pale, unresponsive boy. His chest rose and fell and his eyelids fluttered, though they didn't open. 

"Everyone in guymelef, report!"

"This is Viole, I'm ready."

"This Dallet, I'm in...but I think I tore something in left arm."

"Guimel, here. I'm bruised, but intact."

"This is Tristan, I'm good to go."

"Kwami, I'm set."

"Keiran, I....I ... can fly."

"That all?" Gatty asked, his voice low. "Ok then... Move out, diamond formation with Shesta at point."

Shesta powered up his Alseid, turning on his systems and checking the status of every guymelef powering up in the room. The massive machine walked to the edge of the dock and then folded in its legs to go into flight mode. Shesta launched into the bright blue sky... startled at how cheerful and unaware the day was to what was going on inside the Vione. 

He moved the throttle forward, setting his guymelef at full speed. He only relaxed when he heard the soft whirs of other engines falling into formation around him. 

"Where do we go?"

"Away from the Vione, we have to lose them! Disable the tracking systems!" Gatty commanded. Shesta wanted to slap himself. Why hadn't he thought of that?

He located the small device and pulled its power cord. The red flashing light went off and he sighed. "Circle the east, we can't keep moving in a straight line!" Shesta followed his own command before anyone else acknowledged it.

"We've got company!" Viole shouted.

"Protect Shesta!" Gatty yelled. "Turn back and face.."

"No!"

"Tristan, now is not the time.." Gatty was growling, only to be cut off again.

"Get Lord Dilandau out of here! The best people to protect him are you guys! Keiran, Kwami, protect the Elite! We'll turn and face the approaching enemy!"

"Tristan!" Dallet protested.

"If we got away with Lord Dilandau, what then? He'd still need someone to protect him! What's the use of all of us getting killed? Let us do this! Get him out; we'll hold them off for as long as we can!"

"Gatty, it's your call..." Guimel breathed into his speaker.

Shesta's hands shook, all of the responsibility shouldn't be placed on Gatty. He was going to crack. "Gatty, they're right. Lord Dilandau won't stand a chance with all of us injured. We have to go... if we don't have to fight, we shouldn't...not right now. There will be other chances to fight, when we are needed."

"Elite, form a circle around Shesta and retreat. We circle west and.... head to Freid. Tristan, Kwami, Keiran... may the gods be with you. Lord Dilandau will be told of your valiance. Go!"

Shesta waited until Gatty's guymelef moved in front of his, before he began to move again. He saw the small blips that indicating approaching air vessels and felt the panic rise. "Hurry!"

They shot off, pushing their Alseides to their limits, leaving their comrades behind to fight a losing battle. Gods...

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. 

Lord Dilandau gave a small moan, and Shesta frowned down at the boy, taking one hand off the controls to adjust the captain's head on his shoulder.

They flew in a circles for an hour, just in case they had been followed, then finally turned east....toward Freid.

"How is Lord Dilandau, Shesta?" Gatty's soft voice crackled over his speaker.

"Still out," Shesta reported. "I don't know what they gave him, but he doesn't seem to be in pain."

"Good. I want to set down in the clearing we're approaching. Everyone start preparing for a landing. Dallet, how's that arm?"

"Numb."

"Great..."

Shesta sighed. Did they have anything to treat Dallet with? Perhaps. He plotted the distance from his position in air to where Gatty had designated as their final destination. "Ok, I'm going to land."

"Ok, after Shesta, Guimel... then Dallet. Dallet, let us know if you have trouble; Guimel and Shesta will try to catch you, and Viole and I can steady you."

"I'm good to land," Dallet said snippily. 

"Fine."

It only took a few moments for them to land, and Shesta sat patiently after opening his hatch. Gatty and Guimel climbed up the legs of his kneeling Alseid. Guimel carefully reached to take Lord Dilandau from Shesta's lap, and between he and Gatty, they got the captain safely to the ground. 

Shesta's legs screamed in both pain and pleasure, when the weight was removed. His feet tingled as the blood started circulating back into them. He hadn't been aware of how uncomfortable he had been. Ouch.

He climbed out his guymelef and stretched his back and shook his arms and legs. Then he peered at their environment. The forest was thick and it would be hard for anyone to spot them overhead, even in the clearing. Good choice, Gatty.

Gingerly, he made his way to the ground, where Lord Dilandau had been laid out with his head resting in Guimel's lap, and Viole was doing his best to wrap Dallet's arm in the undershirt he wore under his armor. 

They were a sad bunch. Guimel was almost as pale as Lord Dilandau, as he sat stroking the captain's silver hair and staring off into space. Viole's hands trembled as they worked to secure Dallet's makeshift sling and his mouth twitched every once and a while like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. A speechless Viole was a scary thing. Gatty stood apart from the group, appraising them all solemnly and looking into the trees with his shoulders slumped. His frame revealed a weariness that someone his age shouldn't be experiencing. 

Gatty was trying to make it his fault. He was in charge when Lord Dilandau couldn't be, and he'd led the Slayers not present to their deaths. He'd saved his own skin...

But that wasn't what happened. Shesta walked past Guimel, Dallet, and Viole and stopped beside Gatty. He tried to lay a hand on the other blond's shoulder, but he jumped. 

Gatty whirled, ready to fight, and froze at seeing Shesta. Shesta wanted to give him a smile, but found that he'd forgotten how for the moment. "Gatty... It was their decision."

"They didn't have to die. We're the better warriors... we should have fought, and they should have taken Lord Dilandau. We would have stood more of a chance!"

"Yes, Gatty, we are the better warriors. They knew that, which is why they entrusted us with the task of protecting Lord Dilandau. Who better than us? Look at him, Gatty," Shesta gestured back to where the other Elite were sitting. He nodded toward their unconscious leader. "He's so helpless, so weak... what would he do with Andre or Sergio? How could they help him? They can barely take care of themselves. He needs strong guardians. Ones who can act without being instructed to do so and act correctly. Don't make any of our comrades' honorable deaths into mistakes and poor judgment! They did what had to be done! It doesn't seem right; deaths of people you're close to never seem right, but their sacrifice was necessary."

"But all of them..."

"And... who says they're dead? Maybe they've been taken prisoner and we'll rescue them. Wait until Lord Dilandau wakes up; we'll see what he says," Shesta reached to touch Gatty's shoulder again and squeezed. "You did a really good job, Gatty. I couldn't have done it, and I respect you."

Gatty's blue eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them away instead of shedding them. He nodded briefly at Shesta and let out a shaky sigh. "Thank you, Shes. I... I couldn't have done it all without you there, though. When I got really wound up and thought I would burst from the stress...I would remember, Shesta's here. Shesta will help me."

"I didn't.."

"It was your presence," Gatty said softly. 

Shesta remembered how to smile at that moment and Gatty did too. "So...what's our next move?" 

Shesta studied the smooth planes of Gatty's face as he stared off into the fringe of trees his mouth a straight line. He blinked slowly and looked at Shesta with determination glistening in his eyes.

"We get Miguel."  
  
  
  
  
  


~*~Author's Note: Well, that's it. What do you think? You like it, don't like it, don't care? Let me know!! Please review!~*~  
  
  
  


~Reviewer Responses~  
  


Blue Ice: Hey, I'm glad you like the personalities I've tried to develop for each character. The Dragonslayers are a lot of fun to work with, especially since you get to create their personalities and eccentric quirks without having to worry about going against any kind of series canon. Hope you enjoy the rest of the story! Thanks for reviewing!  
  


Deadly Beauty1: Well, I'm glad you decided to stop in and review. I'm guilty of reading lots of good stories and not reviewing until like 20 chapters after I started too, lol. I'm getting a lot of positive feedback about Miguel and Viole....hmm..maybe I shouldn't kill Miguel off... Well, we'll see what happens in chapter 14. Oh, and uh...can you get me sugar cookies instead? Chocolate...bleah! Lol ;) Thank you for reviewing!  
  


Kou-Kagerou: Lol... Thank you for the review, hope you got to read the previous chapter ok.   
  


Feye Morgan: He, he, he!! Your reviews are always so funny! I enjoy reading them probably more than you enjoy reading the chapter. I know you're always looking for new events that will change the Escaflowne plot...well, here's one, lol! And who says Van has a better chance with Hitomi? ;) Maybe, maybe not... But no, he won't have to worry about Allen in that respect lol. As for Miguel's fate....Muhahahahahaha! We shall see... Thanks for reviewing chica...I hope to see more To Mend The Roses soon :).   
  


Nikku: The famous question again.. Will I kill Miguel? Hmm... You'll see in the next chapter! Yes, you will finally know the fate of the Dragonslayers. Will Dilandau figure out who Celena really is and about his strange relationship to Allen? I think its safe to go ahead and say, "yes." I won't tell you when, where, or how though, lol. All of that can be a surprise. I was kind of afraid I was being too OOC for Dilandau. I like him crazy, like he is in the series, but I had to change him a bit for my story. I'm glad you don't think I've changed him to the point of where he's not believable as being Dilandau anymore. I hope you like this chapter. Thank you for the review chic, I always appreciate it ;) 

  
  
  
Ok, that's it! Thanks everyone! Don't forget to review! Take care! :)  



	15. Chapter 14

~*~ T'is me again! Hey everyone! I'm sorry for the delay on this update. Who would have thought applying to graduate school would be so tedious. Yes, I said graduate school, meaning I'm about to get out of college soon. Yeah, yeah, I'm old; I know. I'm about to turn 22 in April...gah! I'm almost a quarter of a century old! Well, here is chapter 14. I hope you guys like it; though I must warn you, it's one of those 'necessary filler chapters,' that must be written in order for the story to make sense lol. It's not as long as most of the other chapters, so don't worry :). Thank you for all of the wonderful reviews last time! I don't think I've ever gotten so many at once. I put the reviewer responses at the bottom :) Well, enjoy (I hope ;) ).~*~   
  


Chapter 14  
  


"Allen, I've brought you something to eat. Now, I want you to eat all of it, so you can rebuilt your strength," Millerna bound into the room holding a white tray of food. Allen turned his head to glance at her as she entered. The Princess set the tray down on the floor beside the pallet he laid on and went to open the blinds to let in the setting rays of the sun. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, but still sore," Allen nodded. He glanced dully at the food. He still hadn't regained his appetite, but he hadn't the heart to tell the Princess that. "Where is Hitomi?"

Millerna turned from the window, the expression in her eyes strange...hurt, maybe. "Hitomi? Why, I believe she's outside with Van. Why?"

"Could you get her for me? I need her to do me favor, and tell her to bring her cards."

"You want her to do a reading for you? Why?" Millerna frowned. She moved to kneel beside Allen on the floor. "You're worried about something, aren't you? Is it about my father? Are you afraid he'll be angry at you for leaving Astoria and coming here? Oh Allen, you shouldn't worry about that. Everyone knows you love Astoria more than anyone..."

Allen wanted to roll his eyes. Marlene hadn't talked this much. He was still as he pretended to be listening to the girl. When she was finally finished he smiled at her flirtatiously, "Millerna..." he purred in his sweetest tone.

"Yes, Allen?" Millerna practically glowed.

"Get me Hitomi."  
  


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"Why can't I go?" Viole asked, looking from Gatty to Shesta. "I want to go!"

Gatty shook his head, trying to keep his face neutral, "Shesta needs you here to help him with Lord Dilandau. Dallet can't fight well with his arm like that, so your skill is much needed. Guimel and I will do fine alone. The fewer our numbers, the less chance we have of us getting caught."

Gatty decided not to add that they didn't know what condition Miguel was going to be in and he would prefer to spare Viole from more pain if Miguel was... Gatty touched the boy's shoulder lightly, "It would just be better if you stayed here."

Viole's shoulders slumped in his grasp, and his eyes dimmed a bit, "You think he's dead, don't you?"

"We wouldn't be going in after him if I thought that," Gatty said plainly. "But if he's hurt..."

"I can handle it," Viole insisted. "I just... need to see him, that's all."

"You'll see him when we get back with him," Gatty assured the wavy haired boy. 

"Guys...I think he's waking up!" Guimel's voice shook Gatty's attention from Viole and back towards the heart of their small camp where Guimel and Dallet sat looking after Lord Dilandau. Shesta jogged over and dropped to his knees beside the other boys, and Gatty and Viole followed him. 

Lord Dilandau shifted in Dallet's lap and moaned softly, his eyelids fluttered rapidly as if they wanted to open. "Come on," Dallet purred, brushing sweaty locks of silver hair from Lord Dilandau's forehead. "Guimel..."

Guimel poured more cool water from his metal canteen onto the undershirt he'd stripped off a few hours after they'd made camp and dabbed Lord Dilandau's face with it. The captain turned his head away from the cold stimulus and mumbled under his breath.

"That's good; wake up..."

"What did they give him?" Shesta was murmuring. 

"I don't know...but he's been so sick anything would effect him badly, I bet," Guimel said. He wiped more sweat off of Lord Dilandau's flushed brow. "He's starting to run a fever."

"What if it was some sort of poison?" Viole pulled at his hair.

"The Sorcerers were not out to poison Lord Dilandau. They wanted him for something," Gatty said firmly. "He'll be fine; he just needs to sweat out whatever they pumped into him. Guimel, come on. I don't want to lose the daylight."

"Wouldn't it be better for us to go at night?" Guimel asked, glancing up at Gatty as he wrung water from his shirt. 

Gatty shook his head, "No... I want to do this now. Gives Zaibach less time to try to stop us. You think they won't know we'll try to save Miguel? And lets not forget the doppleganger.. I just have a bad feeling, is all. If you don't want to go, I can choose someone else."

Viole perked up, and Gatty grimaced inwardly. He would have no choice but to take Viole. The boy had been so unpredictable as of late, so quiet and somber. He didn't know what Viole might do if Miguel wasn't in good condition. The mission was one that required great stealth; they could afford the chance of someone becoming hysterical on the scene. 

"No," Guimel shook his head. "I'll go. The sooner we help Miguel the better. I think he's sweated long enough."

Shesta chuckled as he placed a hand on Lord Dilandau's brow, "I bet the first thing he's going to want to do is take a bath, when he gets back. Remember how he carried on about the filthiness of Schezar's servants and the state of his castle? Imagine Miguel in a dungeon with prisoner guards."

They all had to laugh at that. "You'll find him gagged," Viole snorted. "I wager he had something to say about everything and everyone who came to visit him."

Lets just hope he didn't suffer for his arrogance... Gatty frowned. Gatty and the others found Miguel's manner amusing if not annoying, but an enemy would surely be insulted by Miguel's pride. 

Miguel... we're coming. 

"Here Shesta," Guimel handed Shesta his damp shirt and stood, stretching. His back popped a few times and he groaned. "Give me a second to put my armor back on, and I'll meet you at the Alseides."

Gatty nodded, already moving in the direction of their stationary guymelefs. The large blue machines knelt in the foliage, looking tall and foreboding. He climbed up the leg of his own, popping open the cockpit and staring inside. 

This was stolen property. He was no longer a Zaibach solider, but this was Zaibach equipment. He was not only a deserter but a thief. 

He cleared his head of those accusations. He was not a deserter, but a good soldier protecting his commander and doing what he believed was right. He was not a thief... the guymelefs had been a gift from Lord Dilandau. No one was to touch them but Dragonslayers, meaning the Dragonslayers were their rightful owners. Anyone who dared use the guymelefs left aboard the Vione that belonged to the other Slayers would be thieves. Thievery was to be punished by death. 

Gatty gritted his teeth as he remembered the anguished cries of dying comrades. The soldiers on the Vione would pay... Zaibach would pay. 

"Gatty, I'm ready!" Guimel's voice startled him. "You ok?"

"Yeah," Gatty breathed, then repeated himself in a louder voice so that Guimel could hear him. Yeah... He unclenched his fist and relaxed his jaw. He seated himself in his cockpit and shut the hatch. He turned on his radio and adjusted the frequency so that he could be in communication with Guimel, "Just follow my lead, you remember the plan?"

"Yeah, of course. Don't worry, Gatty. We'll do fine."

"I know." 

Did he really?

Well, they were about to find out.  
  


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"You want me to do a reading?" Hitomi's green eyes went wide. Allen smiled in amusement at Hitomi's stunned expression. How did she always manage to look so surprised when someone asked her to do a reading?

"Yes, for the Zaibach prisoner."

"Allen, you don't really believe in that stuff?" Millerna was rolling her eyes and casting wicked looks in Hitomi's direction that she poorly tried to conceal with her lowered lashes.

"Yes," Allen said simply, not turning his head to see Millerna's blush.

Hitomi smiled more in Millerna's direction than Allen's and knelt on the floor beside Allen's pallet, laying out the taro cards. She began to read and explain each card she laid out.

"Danger...conflict...." her fingers moved toward a card with a serpent painted on it. "This suggests tension....and this," she pointed to a card portraying a warrior on his horse, "is the warrior of dragons. It must be Van..."

"Go on," Allen coaxed her. He was grateful these taro card readings of hers didn't take as long as her dowsing. 

The next card Hitomi pointed to was... "World...and... Death. A great power is guiding everything towards an end, so that everything can be reborn."

"The end of everything? Is that what Zaibach is after?" Allen was getting a headache. What was wrong with these people? Who in their right mind would want an end to everything? The answer was no one, of course. So basically Hitomi had just proven what Allen already knew, Zaibach was insane.

"And the prisoner," Hitomi said, after watching his face carefully. She flipped a new card from the deck she held in her hands and frowned, "Huh? The spare card?" She dropped her hand so that both Allen and Millerna could see the blank white card she held. "I always take the spare out before I shuffle the deck. How did it get back in here?"

"So why a blank card?" Allen stared at it for a moment before gasping. "Oh no!" The card was blank because there was no one to read for... The prisoner had escaped!

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Miguel grimaced as blood from one of the Freidian soldiers splashed back into his face after he punched him. Wonderful, now he was filthy and bloody. He would have to find a place to bathe before going back to the Vione. He couldn't let any of the other Dragonslayers see him like this, especially not Viole. Gods, he could hear the bad jokes now, and of course, everyone would laugh at the jokes, because they were at Miguel's expense. He looked up at his Alseid and took an assessed its condition on the outside. It wasn't a pretty sight to behold, but it just might get him out of Freid. From outside of the country's borders, he would send out a distress signal. 

The freaky doppleganger turned out to trustworthy, and Miguel felt shame for overreacting as he had when it had first come to him. Lord Dilandau would never let Folken send someone untrustworthy after him. He should have realized that earlier. He ran up the stone staircase that led to the hatch of his guymelef. 

After popping the hatch, he climbed inside the cockpit, reacquainting himself with the controls. He pulled the switch to shut the hatch and shut his eyes along with it, "Please work." 

The engines slowly roared to life and Miguel let out the breath he'd been holding in relief. Carefully, he brought his guymelef to a standing position and shifted the clutch in front of him forward. The heavy metal creaked and groaned as it walked forward like it protested the movements. The Freidian imbeciles hadn't taken good care of his Alseid at all. He'd have to do a little damage to show them just how well he had appreciated their ill treatment of him and his belongings. 

He punched through the dingy stone of the wall to escape into the bright sunlight of the day. He squinted a bit before his eyes got used to the light. He hadn't expected it to be daytime. He had wanted to make his break at dusk, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He was lucky he was getting to see the outside of the dungeon while not being led to his public execution at all. He shuddered at the thought of being executed by the dirty hands of the bald Freidian soldiers. He'd sooner find a way to commit suicide than let that happen. 

He heard exclamations from below and looked down to see dozens of little bald men scampering about in a panic. He grinned and wiped greasy hair from his eyes. Oh yeah, he needed a bath, badly. He brought the Alseid's heavy arm down on a stone bridge. 

Ok, he'd wrecked one wall and one bridge. Was that enough damage? He figured so; it was time to leave. His eyes quickly began to scan the area for an easy exit. Freidian guards were started to come at him with lances and prongs. What hell good did they think those useless things were going to do against him in his guymelef? Stupid...

He gave up looking for a good exit, he was just going to break through another wall; he was getting restless. An escape in the open, in broad daylight, should never be drawn out. His Alseid trudged toward an outer wall, ready to smash through it, when something large, white, and heavy landed directly in his path. The dragon. 

Miguel narrowed his eyes. That pervert had a lot of nerve coming to talk to Miguel as he did earlier. Miguel had seen the look in his eyes as the King of Fanelia spoke of about Lord Dilandau. He'd seen other men and women look at his commander in the same way. Lust.

Disgusting.

"Zaibach soldier, surrender and your life will be spared," ordered Van.

Miguel sneered, sure thing, your majesty. After I kill you, now hold still!  
  


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Van watched as the blue Zaibach guymelef went invisible. Damn. He really didn't want to hurt Avenger, but he couldn't just let him escape.... or could he? 

He frowned. What was the right thing to do? Avenger was a prisoner of war, by law he should be executed for war crimes. As a monarch and a warrior Van should recapture him, maybe even kill him since he was proving himself to be hostile.

But....

But Avenger couldn't be much older than Van. He was only fighting for his own country's sake. He was... He was one of Dilandau's men.

And there it was.... Dilandau, again. Forget him, Van! Forget him! You'll probably never see him face to face again! What's the use of protecting his man? Avenger would kill Van if he saw an opening... 

But...

He still remembered the look in his eyes after Van's sword had sliced his cheek. Van had watched him fall to his knees, clutching his bloodied face. Silver hair still fluttered in the air, slower to reach the ground than the blood. The fallen angel trembled as he choked in horror at the sight of his own blood in a puddle on the floor decorated by silver ringlets. 

'Sorry' Van had managed to say. 'I'm so sorry.'

He narrowly avoided being skewed through the belly like a shish-kabob, dammit. His heart had already decided that he wouldn't kill Avenger, but he wasn't trying to be killed by him either. He had to locate him. He focused on Hitomi's teachings. He envisioned the pendant Hitomi wore around her neck, swinging before his face. Concentrate...concentrate... there!

He dodged the arm of liquid metal aimed right for his heart. Avenger wasn't playing around. He would have to knock him down...

But hadn't he tried that technique before and it hadn't worked?

He spied Avenger again; he was charging again and Van prepared himself to take the charge. The damaged blue guymelef rebound off him and collapsed to the ground becoming visible. Van smirked, looked like Avenger was down. He saw the hatch opening and the brown-haired boy climbing out. 

Not so fast, Avenger. He took a step toward the fallen guymelef, but was stopped by Freidian soldiers with lances. "Halt, Fanelia!"

"What the..." Van watched helplessly as Avenger faded away in the crowd. 

"Van Fanel, you are under arrest for being a traitor to Freid!"

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Guimel frowned as he and Gatty neared the borders of the capitol city wall. "What's going on in there, Gatty?"

"I don't know, looks like some sort of a skirmish," Guimel heard the preoccupied frown in Gatty's voice too. "Maybe this is good. It'll be easier to slip in unnoticed."

"Perhaps...hey look!" Guimel blinked. He stopped his Alseid as he watched another Alseid become visible inside the city walls while doing battle with... he squinted... the dragon! "Gatty, I think Miguel's in his Alseid. We can just get him."

"Unbelievable. You think the doppleganger has anything to do with this?" Gatty asked lightly.

"Maybe, Folken trusts him. Should I alert Miguel we're here. I can press the..."

"No!" Gatty's cry made him cringe. "If you activate any kind of tracking device in here, Zaibach will be onto us."

"Do you really think they care enough to look for us?" Guimel was starting to feel doubtful about Zaibach's wanting to come after them. They were just boys in broken guymelefs. They were no threat to Zaibach.

"Two Madoushi are dead, and we've got Lord Dilandau. Yes, Zaibach is going to come after us. Which is why we're getting Miguel, so he can't be used against us!"

Guimel sighed; he had forgotten about the dead Madoushi. Damn. He frowned deeper... just when had they started using "Zaibach" as a term to label the enemy? Weren't they "Zaibach" not even a day ago? It should feel odd to him to say "Zaibach" and not being referring to himself or allies...but opposition; opposition that would kill them, if they caught them. Opposition that had already killed some of them, he winced. 

"Guimel... Miguel's taken some serious damage, and I see him getting out of his Alseid. The King of Fanelia looks a little occupied. Give me a minute to get out of my armor, then I'm going to climb out of my Alseid into the hand of yours. I want you to drop me over the wall. I can blend into the crowd and find Miguel."

Guimel glanced over the wall, into the mad crowd rushing the Escaflowne. He could see no sign of Miguel. "You sure you'll be able to find him in that?"

"I'll have to," Gatty said finally. "I'm coming over; be ready."  
  


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Miguel limped in the dark, clutching at the bleeding gash on his leg. The pain was bad but bearable; Miguel would not be able to fully assess the damage done until he was able to sit. He slipped into the shadows of an alley and watched as Freidian soldiers continued to flock toward's the Fanelian guymelef. Good.

Maybe they'd kill him.

He ducked inside a seemingly empty darkened dwelling and took a seat on the cold stone floor. He waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light, before he tried to look at his wound. The skin was split badly at the knee just above where the top of his heavy boots began. If that piece of metal had struck him a few inches lower, it would have done no damage, he thought bitterly. As it was, he could tell he was going to need a few stitches. He wouldn't make it far out of Freid on foot at all. He was going to have to find a place to hide out and some medical supplies. 

He grimaced at the thought of putting in his own stitches. He wasn't even good at putting them in other people! But he couldn't leave a wound like that open, not if he ever wanted it to heal properly. He would do hasty field stitches and then bear the pain of letting someone else yank them back out and redo them properly.

He removed his overcoat to tear at the undershirt he wore beneath it. It would do him no good to leave a trail of blood everywhere he traveled. Forget that he was starting to feel light headed from loss of blood...

He wound the fabric around his knee, biting back a yelp as he pulled the final knot tight over the damaged area. He shut his eyes for a moment and leaned his head against the cold stone wall. He couldn't stay there, but what would it hurt to take a short nap. His head swam a bit, and he realized he'd taken more of a beating in battle than he'd originally thought. Various nerves in his body were relaying messages of pain to his brain. He hardly noticed the sound of the footsteps nearing him, but he did recognize the smell.

The doppleganger. He glared up at the ugly striped being, "You don't have to help me anymore. I'll get out of here on my own."

"I'm not here to help you..." The creature hissed, and it darted toward him, wrapping its rough putrid hands around his throat. Miguel struggled weakly in its grasp, his head was already spinning from lack of blood, now lack of oxygen was being added into the equation. 

Black spots began to dance before his eyes as his lungs burned for air and his throat emitted dry choking noises. Help.... some one.... 

Suddenly sweet air was being dragged back into his empty lungs. He coughed and choked as he gasped for oxygen. Arms held him steady as he sagged backward and his head lolled forward. 

"Miguel? Miguel, are you alright?" 

Gatty?

"You're bleeding," Gatty was saying to him. "I see the leg wound you've taken care of; is there any other area I should be cautious of? Miguel?"

"G...Gatty?"

"Yes, it's me; open your eyes."

He had to be dreaming. What in the world could Gatty be doing there? How? He cracked one eye open to see two blue eyes staring back at him intently. Those eyes certainly looked like Gatty's, but that meant nothing with a doppleganger around. He fought futilely within the confines of the arms that held him. 

"Calm down Miguel. Tell me if you've been hurt anywhere else. We've got to get out of here. Guimel's waiting for us outside."

Guimel?

Would the doppleganger know of Guimel?

"Vi...ole?"

"He's not with us, Miguel. We left him back at camp. Did you hit your head?" Gentle fingers began probing the back of his scalp. 

"I think so...." Miguel uttered roughly. His shaky hands went to his throat, feeling the swelling. 

"That's going to bruise nicely," Gatty commented, but Miguel didn't know if he was talking about something he felt on his head or his throat. "Do you think anything's broken?" 

"No..." Miguel sighed, finding the strength to open both eyes. A Gatty without uniform held him, his blond hair mused and his expression concerned. Miguel sniffed delicately at the air. His nose still detected the stench of the doppleganger, but it was not coming from the person holding him.

"Doppleganger?" 

"Dead," Gatty snarled, then softened his tone again as he brushed soggy brown hair from Miguel's eyes. "We have to move now Miguel. Do you need me to carry you, or can you help me some?"

Miguel blinked a few time, trying to reorient himself with his surroundings. "Um... I think I can help."

The world spun as Gatty grunted and lifted him into a standing position with his body resting upon Gatty's. "Miguel?" 

"I...I think...you're...gonna have to carry me, Gatty." 

He heard Gatty's soft groan, then felt the himself being slung over his comrade's shoulder. Staring at Gatty's backside was not the way Miguel had planned on spending his afternoon, but it beat being killed by a doppleganger any day. As Gatty moved to leave the dwelling, Miguel caught a glimpse of the white corpse with a bloody hole in its middle, made by a sword. A sword...

So that was what Miguel felt bouncing against his sore knee. He didn't say anything to Gatty about it though. He would endure it. He felt himself being set down on cool concrete, and his back was supported by a stone wall. The chill of it ate through the thin material of his undershirt and he shivered. He opened the eyes he didn't know he had closed again and peered at Gatty, who was looked to be peeping around the corner. "You've certainly made a mess here, Miguel, but it looks like all of the soldiers are taking care of the dragon. If we hurry, I can get us across to the wall without anyone seeing us. I'm going to have to move really fast though... you're not feeling queasy are you?"

Now that he mentioned it...

"Great," Gatty grumbled. Miguel felt himself being gathered up again and tossed over Gatty's shoulder. "Here we go and please try to control your gag reflex."

Easier said...

Suddenly they were shooting across the narrow town square like a shot out of a canon. Gatty was right, the coast seemed clear, but there were a few stragglers who might catch sight of them if they dawdled. They reached the shadows of another alley on the opposite wall. "Guimel should be watching for us. He'll give us a sign or something when he..." Gatty started and Miguel snapped out of his stupor at the appearance of Guimel. The tow-headed boy raised an eyebrow comically at them both. "Eh, you were taking too long Gatty; thought you needed help, and from the looks of this guy...you do. Long time no see, Miguel; how are you feeling?"

"How does he look?" Gatty replied. Miguel groaned, he closed his eyes again. Looking at the world upside down was making him nauseous. 

"How did you get in?" Gatty asked Guimel, and Miguel could practically hear the smirk in Guimel's voice. 

"Well fearless leader-apparent, I took an easier less dramatic way in than you did. It seems that during Miguel's little rendevous with the dragon, a new door was made in the wall just behind this little hovel. I walked right in."

Miguel could feel Gatty's growl, "And you failed to notice this 'door' before I had you drop me over a wall onto a crumbling walkway and nearly break my neck?"

Guimel answered Gatty's growl with a chuckle. "You wanna double up with Miguel, or you want me to take him?"

"Just show me how to get out of here, Guimel," Gatty instructed in a voice low with annoyance. 

"Touchy," Guimel purred. "Follow me." 

They were moving again, and Miguel swallowed hard to combat vertigo. He hadn't really eaten anything that had been brought to him in the cell, so if he were to be sick, nothing would come up. Lucky, Gatty.

Lucky... me.

In his odd state of consciousness, as Gatty and Guimel were helping him get situated inside Gatty's Alseid, what had just transpired crystallized. He had been rescued. His teammates, his friends, had come after him and had saved his life. 

It occurred to him then, that he really hadn't been expecting an extraction. He had really assumed he was going to be on his own. The doppleganger had been a surprise, and he had thought it was all the help he was going to be offered. He should have known better, and he did know better now.

"Gatty..." Miguel whispered. He listened to Gatty shifting gears and giving quick orders to Guimel through his communicator.

"What Miguel?"

"Thank...you."

The soft whir of an engine starting muffled Gatty's response, but Miguel thought he heard him say, "Your welcome."

Then he lost consciousness.  
  


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His head was pounding and he couldn't stop shaking. It hadn't helped to be informed of the current situation of his Dragonslayers while he was fighting off the aftereffects of whatever the hell the Madoushi had pumped into him that time. Though he was incensed, infuriated, and outraged, he also realized he would be of no use if he let his emotions overpower him. The last of Folken's drugs were leaving his body and he had to do everything he could to keep a clear head. 

Gatty and Guimel were bringing Miguel.

Shesta, Viole, Dallet, Gatty, Guimel, and Miguel... 

Six out of fifteen. 

He flinched as a cold water skin was put against the back of his neck, and he tilted his head slightly forward to rest it on his knees. "Is the pain any less?"

"It's a little better," Dilandau whispered to Shesta. "How long ago did they leave, again?"

"It's been 3 hours. They should be back momentarily, if all went according to plan," Shesta said softly. 

As if on cue, the heavy footsteps of two guymelefs trampling over a grassy plain and parting trees, could be heard. "There they are."

"Help me up," Dilandau grunted, raising his head. He watched as two more Alseides knelt beside the three already at rest. The hatches popped open, and Guimel climbed out of one, looking pleased with himself. He gazed down at the crowd below and beamed at seeing Dilandau up, albeit leaning heavily on Shesta for support. 

"Lord Dilandau! It's great to see you awake, sir!" He skipped across the legs of his guymelef to Gatty's to assist him with Miguel. Dilandau felt his heart plummet at the sight of Gatty and Guimel handling a dazed Miguel. 

Viole gasped beside him and quickly rushed to the guymelefs to climb up and help Gatty and Guimel with their load. "Is he ok?" he was calling as he climbed.

Dallet grumbled to himself. He was feeling worthless without the use of both arms. Dilandau wanted to tell him he could empathize with him when it came to feeling worthless. 

"Get off me, Viole," Miguel's voice was groggy but the annoyed arrogance in his tone was clear. As soon the four boys touched the ground, Miguel was pushing away from Viole, who was trying to hug him. 

"Miguel! You're ok! You're dirty and you smell, but you're ok!" Viole was cheering, ruffling Miguel's hair.

Guimel laughed and Gatty shook his head. Miguel looked to Dilandau and moved toward him, dropping to one knee, "I am so sorry for being captured my Lord. I await whatever punishment you have to give me."

He lowered his head as Dilandau raised an inquisitive eyebrow and shared a look with the other Slayers. "Miguel?"

"Yes sir?"

"Get your ass up. If you haven't noticed, we're missing more than half of our platoon. I have more pressing matters to deal with other than punishing you, like getting back the rest of my men and getting rid of this headache. We're all pleased that you're back, but you are not the center of this universe, Lavariel. Now go clean up and let someone tend to your wounds."

"Y...yes sir..." Miguel raised his head, blinking in confusion as he looked around. He peered at Dilandau for the first time, fully taking in his condition, and then he took in the state of his fellow Elite. "W...What happened?"

"Viole will tell you," Dilandau said simply. "Gatty, I need you and Shesta to help me."

"Yes sir," Gatty nodded, walking past Miguel who was being guided away by Viole and coming to Dilandau's side. 

"We should sit down," Shesta suggested and didn't wait for anyone to agree with him before he started trying to get himself and Dilandau situated on the soft grass below them. Dilandau didn't object to the movement, his body was starting to shake so hard from the strain of standing he was getting motion sickness. 

"Did you have any problems with the extraction?" Dilandau asked Gatty.

Gatty shook his head, "It was actually rather easy. Something was going on between the Freidian guards and the King of Fanelia. When we arrived on the scene, the streets were pretty much clear."

Dilandau nodded, "No sightings of the doppleganger?"

Gatty cringed, "Um... actually, sir.... I had to kill it."

"That was Folken's man, Gatty!"

"He was strangling Miguel," Gatty explained himself. "He was going to kill him; I had too."

Dilandau growled softly. Dammit. He knew dopplegangers were not to be trusted, and he hoped Folken would understand why it had to die. "Don't worry about it, Gatty." Dilandau gritted his teeth and braced himself against another wave of pain and nausea. This was getting old.

"Lord Dilandau? What do you need our help with?" Shesta pressed, taking one of Dilandau's cold sweaty palms into his warm ones. "Maybe we should wait until morning, after you've had a chance to get more rest." 

Dilandau shook his head, "No, we have to start planning our next move now. I spent a lot of time with Folken in the main control room, learning layouts and battle plans. I know when Zaibach will attack Freid with all they have, and that will be the best time for us to seize the Vione and save the remainder of our unit."

"Lord Dilandau, you want to go back to the Vione? You think they're alive?" Shesta breathed.

Dilandau frowned, feeling despair, failure, and guilt punch him in the belly with brass knuckles. If he'd had anything in his stomach, he would have thrown up then. "I don't know Shesta, and we've got to find that out. I doubt any of them will still be aboard the Vione, if they live...but the Vione is a good source of information on where they might be, and Folken will be around to help us."

"You think he'd still help us? We're traitors..."

"According to what you told me earlier, so is he," Dilandau said. "He'll help us." 

"So when is the attack going to be, Lord Dilandau?"

"We have two days if the plans haven't changed, and I doubt that they will."

"Why?" Gatty questioned.

"Because Folken came up with them; he seldom changes anything after its been approved...especially by me."

"He'll be expecting us then?" Shesta asked.

Dilandau nodded, "So lets not disappoint him. We've got to get the Alseides we have in condition to fly and to take on whatever obstacles get in our paths."

"We'll need parts..." Gatty frowned. "...and mechanical knowledge. I know some, and I think Dallet's pretty handy, but I wouldn't trust us."

"So what you're saying is we're going to have to enlist some aid?" Shesta sighed.

"Mmhmm... and I think I may know where we can get it... or rather Dallet might," Gatty rubbed his chin. "Isn't he originally from somewhere near these parts?"

A few tension lines eased themselves out of Dilandau's forehead, "Maybe a few days journey from here on foot, but in an Alseid..."

"Hey Dallet, Dallet come here!" Gatty called to the dark haired boy, as Dilandau smirked, looked like Dilandau was going to be the only useless one here after all. 

He sat back on his hands as Dallet joined the small cluster, and Dallet, Shesta, and Gatty went into deep conversation about the night's traveling plans.   
  


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~*~ So, what did you think? I told you it was a "necessary" filler chapter ;). Did you like it, hate it, apathetic towards it...? Let me know, and I'll make the next one better ;) Please review and take care! ~*~  
  


Reviewer Responses:  
  


Blue Ice 2: Hey, I think you reviewed chapter 13 twice lol. Thanks for both reviews :) So you prefer fluff eh? Lol, well, I'm not a very fluffy writer, but I'll see what I can do for you about including more "bonding" moments. Thanks for the review!  
  


Kou-Kagerou: My, my, does spell-check EVER hate your name, lol. The funny symbols you might find in some of the chapters comes from me converting Word Perfect documents to Microsoft Word Documents and vice versa. Over the summer, I used to write on this story at work, and I would save parts of it on disk and migrate from computer to computer. The files would show up fine when I skimmed them for obvious error, but ff.net, I guess, got confused when I posted them and decided to add mathematical equations into my chapters. Thanks for the "looking out" lol!  
  


Rita: Thank you for the review:). Things still kinda happen the same in the rest of Esca-land, but the Dragonslayers are getting a new part, and they're gonna shake things up a bit. ;)

Aurebec: Well...I didn't kill Miguel...happy? As for the new suspicious soldier...you'll see more of her in the next chapter. Thank you for reviewing, and you don't have to make excuses to me lol. Too many cliffhangers? Me?? Nah... You've got me confused with someone else ;).  
  


Nikku: Well now you have it. Miguel is alive! I only had to draw it out for a few chapters, but I never planned on killing him...not yet anyway. Muhahahahaha! Next chapter you will finally get to see what I've had in store for the Dragonslayers all along. **big evil smile** Thanks for the review!  
  


Deadly Beauty 1: Whoo hoo sugar cookies! Yummy! Thankee! Well, Miguel is alive...for now. Do I get more cookies for that? **bats eyes.** I'm glad you liked the chapter before, thanks for the review!  
  


Macky: Hey, actually I looked back..and yes you have reviewed me before...but don't let that stop you from doing it again ;). What is the Dragonslayers' next big career move? Well.... I CAN'T TELL YOU THAT, lol. You'll just have to find out in the next chapter. **big grin** Oh yes and you reckoned right...Miguel has been kept alive, lol ;).  
  


Feye Morgan: Hehehehehehee! Your reviews are so funny. It's almost like sitting down to read another story. I'm glad you liked that last chapter. I was excited about finally getting out there, but also biting my nails, because the event in the last chapter is what's shaping this story...and if it didn't go over well this whole project crashes and burns. Please excuse this tacky "filler" chapter and I promise the next one will be better :) Take care, update soon, and thanks for reviewing! :)


	16. Chapter 15

Author's Note: Hey...yeah I know, nice once a month update huh? Sorry. I've been busy. I'm going to graduate in three weeks. Ugh, I feel so old! Anyways, I wanna thank everyone for the great reviews. I don't think I've ever gotten so many for one chapter...of anything, lol! So here is Chapter 15, to make up for the delay it's kind of long. Not as long as some of my more lengthy chapters, but its...yeah... if you can only be online for a short while, don't start it right now lol. I'm trying to put all the pieces into place so I can really get this thing started, so bear with me, and any advice is greatly welcome and will be greatly appreciated. Well enjoy, and I put reviewer responses at the bottom.   
  
  
  
Chapter 15 

  
Valeska scowled at the twelve young men standing before her, "So... let me get this straight. You all thought you were going to work with a man, and now that you know that is not so, you wish to be dismissed from my services?"

One man stepped forward, a boy really; he was only seventeen. He was the elected spokesperson for the band, and he gazed at her calmly with placid green eyes. "Yes. We have been through vigorous training with plans to serve only the highest general. We are an elite team of soldiers and deserve places in the ranks with others of our high caliber. If this is a joke, it is not funny."

"I see," Valeska purred. She ran a smooth hand along the sheath of her long sword and smiled lightly. "So you feel serving me is beneath you. What is your name soldier?"

"Lyle."

"Well Lyle..." Valeska sidled up to the boy, running gloved fingers over his face and bringing her face so close to his he could see the tiny freckles on her nose. The boy's breathing began to accelerate and his cheeks blushed as her body brushed against his. His sweaty hands had just decided to make their move and touch her, when he was blinded by an intense pain.

He flew back, landing hard on his behind and clutching his newly broken nose. Blood spurted out into his hands and ran down the front of his uniform. He squawked indignantly and he glared at the woman captain through two black eyes. 

"I don't take kindly to disrespect. I am the general you will serve under. General Adelphos has let me pick from his best for my new unit. I'm so sorry you don't feel honored to be here, gentlemen. Let me assure you this is a privilege beyond any other you will receive. But..." Valeska looked down the line at her doubting draftees, " since I am new, none of you have been able to see my abilities. I don't think I would like to serve under a captain with no reputation for excellence yet either, so I'll let you test me."

"Test you?" another brave soldier spoke up. He didn't move forward and single himself out like Lyle had, though. Smart boy.

"Attack me if you will," Valeska smirked. "All of you will have your chance to fight me. You can fight me all at once, or fight me individually; either way. I assure you that I will be the victor. After we duel and I win, you will bow to me."

There were snickers among the group, and Valeska narrowed her eyes, marking the faces of those who laughed. "Do you wish to take me up on my challenge, gentlemen?"

"I don't fight women," the largest soldier she had chosen stepped forward. His coppery hair glistened with the oil he'd used to slick it back. 

"I don't fight pigs...but in this case I guess we will both have to make an exception." She smirked as the soldier's face flushed pink.

"Come, we will go the gym, and all you will show me what you can do. You will be proving yourselves to me as I will proving myself to you." Valeska stared hard at her potential team and smiled cooly as one by one they nodded and followed her as she led them to the gymnasium.

It hadn't been hard to beat any of them at all. Valeska was rather disappointed. She had thought she would have gotten at least one good sparring partner. They had all succumbed to her blade in a matter of minutes, even the ones who, after seeing their comrades go down so easily, chose to attack her in two's. She would have to retrain them all! Most of them held their swords like handmaidens! And they were the best Adelphos had to offer... 

She snorted. Pitiful.

Up until that point she had only seen them battle with other soldiers aboard the ship. If they had bested those men, then it would seem everyone on board was incompetent. She had her work cut out for her. Just because a soldier looks good on paper and in his regular training environment, doesn't mean he's any good anywhere else. She should have been looking for simple potential... and she might have had better luck at a regular drafting session where she would have seen the good fighters along with the bad. Some of the ones judged bad might have a better capacity to learn what she had to teach them....

She frowned. An odd stirring in the back of her mind gave her the feeling that this line of thinking was not entirely her own; she had gotten it from someone else. The Madoushi perhaps? 

No, they hadn't taught her anything.

Well then who? Could it have been...

"Lady Valeska..." She backhanded the soldier that had called her that. She stared at the young man now sporting a fat lip. 

"Lord...Valeska," she corrected.

"Lord Valeska," the boy stammered. 

"What is your name?"

"Troy, ma...er...sir!"

"Very good, Troy. What is it?"

"General Adelphos requests your presence at once," Troy stood at attention, ignoring the blood rushing down his chin.

"Does he? And do you have any idea what it might be about? If it's not life or death, I am going to shower."

"He's giving you an assignment, I believe. The..." Troy began to stutter, not sure if Valeska wanted him to continue. The girl stared at him intensely, inclining her head for him to go on. "The Dragonslayer unit has deserted Zaibach and Lord Dilandau is missing. General Adelphos needs another unit to take their place in the upcoming battle."

Valeska grinned, "And he thinks I am ready for this?"

Troy was silent.

"He has no other choice but to send me?" Valeska's eyes narrowed, deducing her own answer from the boy's silence. She growled deep in her throat and continued her trek to her quarters. 

"Lord Valeska, the General's throne room is the other way!"

"Tell the General that I am taking a shower and I will meet with him when I am ready," Valeska didn't turn as she spoke. She was no one's last resort. General Adelphos would have to learn this lesson quickly, if she and he were to get along.

And it was in his best interest for them to get along, because he did not want her for an enemy. 

She brushed the hilt of her sword with her fingers; no one wanted her for an enemy. She didn't have a name to be feared for herself yet, but she would before the war was over. 

When she was through, no one would even remember the name Dilandau Albatou. She scowled as she thought of him. The perfect soldier. She' had never actually met him, but for as long as she could remember the Madoushi had compared her to him, calling her the back up plan if he failed. 

It seemed he had...but she was going to be more than just the leftovers! She was not a back up plan nor would she be a last resort. She was the perfect soldier, better than anyone else created, and she would be the first pick no matter how many people she had to stab to get that point.

She was the perfect soldier.  
  


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"So, what did you do in there, Miguel?" Viole asked from inside his guymelef. Miguel was riding on the open hand, looking quite serene and a bit drowsy. He had taken the news of the death of their comrades in stride. He had only flinched and nodded stiffly; Viole hadn't missed the gleam in his eyes when he'd reminded him that they were going for vengeance soon. 

Miguel probably thought he should have been there. His presence may have saved one of them...who knew? But he wasn't there, time couldn't reverse itself, so he had to get over it. Everyone had done what they could. 

"Nothing. Just sat in the dark, wishing for a bath, decent food, and better company. Believe it or not Viole...I ..."

"You what?" Viole wished they were having this conversation on the ground, but to reach Dallet's village they had to use every precious minute they could traveling. Dallet, Shesta, and Gatty had come up with a sketchy map of the terrain that included shortcuts, possible hazards, and watering places, that could get them to their destination 2 days before Zaibach launched its major attack on Freid. Viole snorted, how major of an attack could it be without Lord Dilandau and his Dragonslayers there? They would fail even if they weren't going to sabotage them. 

"I missed you."

"What was that?" Viole had almost missed Miguel's admission as he was lost in thought. 

"Hey, you only get something like that out of me once. If you miss it, that's it," Miguel retorted flatly. He grimaced a bit as Viole's Alseid teetered a bit on an uneven bit of forest terrain. The bump had probably pulled on one of his injuries. Most of the damage done to Miguel was superficial. They had only worried about the leg wound that they had let Lord Dilandau stitch up, since his hands were the steadiest when it came to deep wounds. They had all reveled how Lord Dilandau had steeled his body from its previous weakness to perform the task without fault. 

The cocktail the Madoushi had pumped into Lord Dilandau's body was finally wearing off and flushing itself out of his system through his pores and some vomiting. It was disturbing, but Lord Dilandau was slowly recovering from the poison. 

"Damn," Viole grumbled to Miguel, just to let him know he was still paying attention. He'd been drifting in and out of daydream for a few hours and was surprised to hear a sound of slight concern in Miguel's tone whenever he spoke to Viole after he'd been quiet for a while. None of them had ever known Viole to be quiet...or none chipper. Was Miguel going to start treating him as the others had when Miguel had been taken? That was an annoying thought. The others still hadn't quite taken off the kid gloves with him yet, and now Miguel was borrowing a pair. Damn, indeed.

"Lord Dilandau, how are you doing?" Viole picked up on Gatty's transmission. Lord Dilandau was currently piloting Dallet's guymelef in the lead of the procession, with Dallet in the hand dutifully studying the terrain and giving last minute improvement to the directions where he saw fit. 

"I'm alright," Lord Dilandau's voice crackled over the speakers. He sounded a bit tired, but Viole found he'd grown used to that tone in the commander's voice. "We'll be stopping soon for fresh water and to check bandaging. Dallet remembers another water hole near here."

"Yes sir," Gatty replied. 

"Yes sir," everyone else echoed.

Viole was happy for the break now matter how short it was, when they reached the small stream. He opened the hatch of his guymelef, after lowering the hand to the ground to let Miguel down. He climbed out and down the knees of the kneeling machine eagerly. Miguel still sat perched in the hand, waiting for Viole or someone to offer him some assistance into a standing position. Sitting for long periods of time made his bad leg go stiff. "Oi Miguel, waiting for me? How sweet of you!" He squealed in mock delight, skipping to his partner who rolled his eyes heavenward.

"If I only had my sword," Miguel was muttering just loud enough for Viole to hear and laugh loudly.

"If you only had your sword, you'd what? Use it as a walking stick? You can't hurt me until those stitches are ready to come out. Lord Dilandau would have your ass if you pulled one of them now."

Miguel groaned and looked at Viole earnestly, failing to hide slight pain in his eyes, "I think I have pulled one. The ride was a little rough, but I don't want to tell him. He'll want to redo the whole thing and we don't have time, and he's not feeling well, and..."

"Hush Miguel, you're such an old woman! I can do stitches," Viole looked proud. He could... just not well. As aforementioned, his hands weren't the steadiest when closing the flesh of a close comrade. Hell, his hands shad hook when he he'd worked on the dummy Lord Dilandau had made them practice first aide on. The only one of them who had been any real good at any of the first aide stuff had been Refina. Shesta came second, but the gap in the ranking was very distinct. 

Poor Refina. Where was she now?

Viole hadn't seen her go down and couldn't remember hearing her cry out. He shut his eyes briefly to chase the tears away. He hadn't been aware he'd felt so strongly about her or the rest of the Slayers that hadn't been in the Elite. There had always been distance between the Elite and the lower Strings, just as there was a slight distance between the Elite and their captain, that was slowly dissipating as Lord Dilandau let them in. 

"I'm not letting you stick anything sharp in my leg!" Miguel objected. "I'd sooner let Dallet stitch me up with his bum arm!"

"I'm hurt, Miguel!" Viole widened his eyes and waved his hands towards them as if trying to fan away tears...and maybe he was, but the tears weren't on Miguel's behalf.

Viole grinned and knelt down in the metal hand on his guymelef so he could unwrap the loose undershirt bandage around Miguel's upper thigh. A tiny amount of blood had escaped, signaling that there was indeed a rip in the neat seam Lord Dilandau had sewed. Bother.

"I'll get Shesta over here; is that ok? I don't want this to get infected or anything and then we end up having to cut off your leg or something. I'm not carrying you around, partner or not. You're kinda heavy."

Miguel scowled at him disdainfully and tilted his pointed noise into the air ever-so-slightly. "You can get Shesta."

"Thank you, Lord Lavariel," Viole stood and bowed deeply, with a devilish smile on his lips. "I'll make sure to tell him not to try to localize it. We have to save our precious anaesthetic for real emergencies."

"Viole!" Miguel huffed indignantly as Viole danced away to find Shesta.   
  


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"Going at our present pace, if we only stop once more, I think we can make it before nightfall," Dallet was saying seriously. He didn't miss the sharp look Shesta fired at him. He looked at Lord Dilandau who was sitting quietly with his head in his hands and wanted to smack himself.

There was no way Lord Dilandau was going to let up on their pace now; he might even push them harder, and it was clear he was reaching the end of his endurance.

"Alright," Lord Dilandau said slowly. "We want to get there as soon as possible."

Gatty suppressed a sigh. 

"But, if we are going to press on with only one stop, someone else is going to have to pilot your Alseid, Dallet. I'm starting to see double I'm so tired."

Dallet nearly fell over at the admission, and Guimel choked on the water he was drinking. Dallet thudded him on the back with his good arm. 

"Lord Dilandau, you told me you were alright," Gatty sounded a bit...reproachful.

"I did," Lord Dilandau said softly. "I knew we'd be stopping soon. I wouldn't endanger Dallet like that; I was fine piloting that short distance."

Shesta opened his mouth to say something when Viole pranced into the circle with a questionable grin on his face. Dallet shuddered in repressed fear at the impish look on the boy's face. "Where's Miguel?"

"In the hand of my Alseid. Seems he's ripped a stitch and he needs repairs," Viole said. He frowned at Lord Dilandau who hadn't raised his head. 'Is he ok?' he mouthed to them.

Gatty nodded, moving closer to Lord Dilandau and laying a hand on his shoulder. "Lord Dilandau, maybe it will help your head a little to splash around a bit in some cold water." Slowly Lord Dilandau allowed Gatty to pull him up and together they walked to the muddy banks of the stream, away from the group.

"I'll see about Miguel," Shesta rose. "I'll get the supplies out of my Alseid; does he want something kind of analgesic?"

"Nope," Viole smirked. "He's a tough guy. Said he'd even be willing to let Dallet stitch the tear with his bad arm."

Shesta narrowed his eyes at the imp, then turned to go to his Alseid. Viole took a seat in the grass beside Dallet and Guimel. "How are we doing on time, Dal?"

"Good," Dallet nodded. "I see us getting there tonight."

Viole smiled, "How's the arm?"

"It's alright...I think I just strained a muscle," Dallet sighed. If he didn't move it, he was fine, but muscles strains hurt as bad as sprains; they just took a shorter while to heal. 

"That's good. Miguel's leg is hurting him," Viole sighed, looking troubled. 

Dallet frowned at the expression. He was still hadn't gotten used to Viole both looking and being serious. 

"That was a nasty gash," Guimel commented. "If it had been deeper it may had struck an artery and he'd have bled to death before Gatty and I got him to safety."

"I can't believe how well Lord Dilandau stitched it closed," Viole said.

"Lord Dilandau can do anything he wants when he puts his mind to it." Dallet shook his head, recalling the calm, dedicated expression on Lord Dilandau's face as he performed the procedure on Miguel's leg. His fingers had been swift and skillful, and the stitches had looked as if they had been done in a clinic by Folken himself. 

"Do you think he can take on Zaibach and win?" Guimel asked, leaning back on his hands and spreading his legs out in front of him.

Dallet blinked and stared at Guimel. His partner looked uncharacteristically ruffled. "Maybe... with us behind him. What are you thinking Guimel?"

Guimel sighed and looked up at the blue sky before speaking, "I... I don't know. I'll follow Lord Dilandau into the flaming pits of hell, but I can't but think we're making a mistake. There are only 7 of us and 5 Alseides. Miguel's hurt, Dallet, you're hurt, and Lord Dilandau's not in top condition. I think...maybe, we should give up, lay low. We escaped with our lives; we rescued Miguel; can't we just be happy with that? The other Slayers, they died fulfilling their duties to Lord Dilandau. Their souls are at peace."

"But what about the ones that might not be dead? They'll have to stand trial, be executed? Don't you feel we should try to go after them?" Dallet asked.

"I..." Guimel was still watching the clouds. His chin was starting to waver, and Dallet reached out with to touch his knee comfortingly. 

Guimel wasn't one to express emotions; he usually made sarcastic comments that they would have to translate into feelings. 

"I don't think they're alive...any of them. I can't see how they could be. I think they're all dead. Zaibach killed them, and they'll kill us too if we go back. Why do that to ourselves?" 

"Get killed for the sake of our comrades?"

"Go confirm what we already know: they're all dead and Zaibach is run by bastards...then die for it."

"Because we're not looking at it that way, Guimel. We see it as another rescue mission that we're going to successful in completing," Viole said softly. "If there's the slight chance that even one of them is alive, we need to go. What if it was you, wouldn't you want us to come to save you? Wouldn't you sit in your cell, or wherever they'd decide to keep you, wondering if we were coming? Go ask Miguel how he felt while he was being held captive. I know he was happy to see you."

Guimel blinked and shut his eyes momentarily. "I just don't want... I don't want to know that they're all... Gods, if we go and they're all dead...we'll know. We'll know we failed and more than half of our team is gone. If we don't go we can always hope and dream...and tell ourselves they're fine. There's a chance they're all fine. When we go back, we make what happened real. They'll be really dead, and I don't know if I can deal with that."

Dallet almost started in surprise. He hadn't known Guimel felt that way. And come to think of it, he hadn't really thought about what he felt either. What Guimel said was true...if their companions were dead, they'd be confirming it, setting it in stone. When he'd signed to join the war and pledged his life to Lord Dilandau, he had looked around and realized some of the faces that he saw wouldn't be there in a few years...but he just hadn't thought it would hurt, that he would care so deeply. He hadn't known any of those faces then; now he did, and they all had names, and voices, and most had families, and dreams... 

Oh gods; this was how Lord Dilandau must be feeling. He had made it a point to know all of his Slayers. He had to be blaming himself and thinking it was all his fault. How could he fault himself, when he was unconscious. The fault could only be placed on those able to defend themselves. 

Had he really let his fallen comrades down? Did they fail? They'd protected Lord Dilandau, but could something have been done differently to prevent some of the casualties? 

"No."

Dallet jumped.

"It's not our fault. None of it is. We did what we could do, and should have done, to the best of our abilities. If fault should be placed on anyone, it should fall on the ones who betrayed us. We have to show them why they shouldn't mess with Dragonslayers," Viole said firmly. "Lord Dilandau and Shesta, and Gatty are good enough to devise a way for us to get revenge without getting slaughtered or else they wouldn't have suggested it. Lord Dilandau would never put us in such danger; I'm sure of that. He's got an ace up his sleeve."

Of course he did. Dallet felt relief coursing through his veins. 

"And we'll deal with the death of our comrades, if they are dead, together," Viole said just as firmly, gazing at Guimel. "We're all scared of what we'll find, but we have to do what we have to do. We have to move on. You heard those guys, when they told us to go on. They were doing their jobs and now we gotta do ours and hope we can do our part half as well as they did theirs."

"Those we find alive will get medals of honor," Dallet patted Guimel's knee. He looked back at Viole who was staring off into space contently. "Viole?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks; you're not so bad to have around after all."

"Gee thanks, Dallet. Now if I can only convince Miguel of that."

At the mention of Miguel's name there was a loud howl of pain from the direction of Viole's guymelef.

"Dammit Miguel, if you wanted me to numb the area you should have said something!" Shesta screeched, sounding put out by Miguel's cry.

"Viole, you ASSWIPE!"

Viole grinned sheepishly, "Oops... Forgot to tell Shesta I was joking about the no anaesthetic thing."

Dallet and Guimel shared a knowing glance and smirked at Viole who shrugged. 

"He can't hurt me with that gimp leg and by the time it's better he will have forgotten."

Dallet's smirked deepened.

"I hope."

"You're a dead man, Viole," Guimel chuckled.

"I know."

"We'll honor you with a medal too, though. You are very brave," Dallet pointed out. 

"And very stupid," Guimel added.

"Thanks!" Viole jumped up and rubbed his hands together. "Well, my work here is done. Everyone is smiling- at my expense. I'll be with Gatty and Lord Dilandau, if you need me again. Ja ne!"

Both Dallet and Guimel blinked as the pixie skipped off. Dallet grinned and shifted positions so he could side by side with Guimel. "Are you really feeling better about this?"

"A bit, how about you?"

"Same." 

"Will the people in your village really help us?"

"I think so," Dallet said with a sigh. "It's been so long since I've been home, I hope they remember me. My sisters are probably so big now, and I bet my Dad's gotten fatter, and my Mom's gotten shriller. I do not miss the sound of her voice telling me how lazy I am and how I was gonna be just like Dad. I could never stay busy enough for her at home, so I joined the military."

"Ouch," Guimel commented. "So what's it like, your village?"

Dallet paused to find the right words in which to answer the question. His home was small and uncomplicated. They lived in houses made of wood, there were a select few that had stone houses, and did not have indoor plumbing. They were nowhere near as technologically advanced as some of the places his comrades had come from. In fact, the only reason why he'd even bothered to tell Lord Dilandau and the others it would be fine to go to his village was because of the scrap yard located a mile beyond it. Out-dated, rusted, or broken parts of melef units from various regions were dumped in a river bed that had been dry for decades. Dallet felt sure they would find what they needed somewhere in all that old junk. 

He still wasn't sure if they'd really be welcomed though. The people of his village didn't think highly of the Zaibach militia... And Dallet's parents hadn't been pleased knowing he was going there, but what other army would except recruits as young as he had been? He couldn't stay in the village with his mother for any longer; at least in running away to Zaibach, he'd secured a position for himself with food and shelter. It was the best option he'd had at the time, and he was glad he'd taken it. 

Once he explained they were no longer part of Zaibach, maybe the people would understand, maybe. He hoped.

"My village is...humble."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, you'll see." Dallet gave a slight grin. Then turned his head at the sound of many feet approaching. Lord Dilandau had returned from the stream with Gatty and Viole at his side. 

"It's time to start moving again," Lord Dilandau said. He glanced at Dallet, "I'm ok to pilot for another hour or more, but you'll have to take over when I ask you to, alright?"

"Yes sir," Dallet nodded.

"Will we like your village? What's your house like man? I hope you have indoor plumbing," Viole was saying as Gatty went to help Lord Dilandau back into Dallet's Alseid.

"What if I said no."

"No to what?" Guimel asked.

"Indoor plumbing."

Guimel's mouth fell open and Viole gasped.

"As I said before, my village is...humble."

"Damn!"

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A minuscule scattering of small log cabins, a few stone houses, a fenced in area with some livestock roaming in it, and what looked to be a public well represented Dallet's village. Gatty wished he was somewhere near Miguel to see his expression when he'd laid eyes on their end destination. He had to admit to being surprised as well. He hadn't known Dallet had come from such a simple place. Gatty couldn't say that he himself came from a nobler environment, but at least they'd had indoor plumbing, insulated walls, and a centralized cooling system in their home. 

They'd stationed their Alseides a mile away from the village in a copse of trees, hoping no one had really noticed their arrival and no one would stumble upon the massive machines. Dallet had said he didn't know how the villagers would take to them. He wanted to go in first and do the talking and slowly wave them into town after he'd cleared the air some.

Gatty had given him his approval, and they'd watched Dallet go into town with Guimel at his side. The leftover Slayers sat a few paces outside of the village, shaded by trees, waiting. Lord Dilandau slept peacefully with his head propped up on Shesta's knee. He had fallen asleep shortly after switching piloting positions with Dallet. They'd found him slumbering in the large metal hand of the Alseid when they'd stopped, and no one had the heart to wake him. 

"He's starting to look a little better, I think," Shesta said softly to Gatty as he sat down beside him. 

"Yeah, he is," Gatty agreed, studying his commander's pale face. The heavy bags under his eyes were starting to fade and his features weren't drawn in discomfort. "Think he'll figure out we put something in his water?"

Shesta winced. "I hope not, but he needed to rest."

Gatty nodded, rest and get well, because if he didn't Gatty would be the one leading the assault on the Vione. He didn't want to have to lead the team to possible death again. 

"Look, Guimel's coming back," Shesta nodded to a distant figure with a puff of blond hair coming down the grassy walkway and approaching the motley crew of ex-Zaibach soldiers. 

Guimel walked past the larger group and came directly to Gatty and Shesta. The others moved to crowd around them. "Where's Dallet? What did they say? Do they really not have indoor plumbing?"

"Viole!" Miguel bopped his partner over the head with an open hand.

"Dallet's still in the village; the healer is looking at his arm, but we've been welcomed."

Gatty grinned and Shesta let out a sigh of relief. Guimel's lazy smile widened as he continued, "It seems Dallet is some sort of a hero for going off to war. They want to honor him and our commander of course, by putting us up in the best lodgings in town. It's a big stone house near the edge of the village that they usually reserve for knights when they pass through the area and can be persuaded to stay. The village has a little problem with thieves from the outside, so the more military might they have on their side the better."

"Sounds great," Shesta said. 

"Yeah...really great. I'm going to love being honored...but uh... do honored ones have to use outhouses?"

"Geez Viole!" Miguel huffed, but Gatty stifled a giggle. Miguel was probably more worried about the bathroom issue Viole was making a big joke about than anyone else. Imagine, Miguel Lavariel in an outhouse. 

He did giggle then.

"What?" Miguel snapped, glaring at him.

"Nothing." Gatty raised his hands in the air innocently, suppressing a true laughing fit.

Miguel growled something under his breath that made Viole's eyes widen in surprise. Gatty didn't even want to know what he said.

"We should probably wake Lord Dilandau now," Gatty said, reaching to touch the captain on the shoulder and giving him a small shake. 

It took five minutes to wake Lord Dilandau and get him to a state of complete coherence. He sat rubbing his eyes and running hands through his hair as Guimel repeated what he'd told the group to him. "Did the healer seem any good?"

Guimel blinked as did Gatty. What did the healer have to do with anything? Gatty was expecting to hear game plans. 

"He seemed ok; nothing like what we had on the Vione. I don't think he'd rip a whole in Dallet's arm, if that's what you're getting at," Guimel frowned, looking thoughtful. "Though I think he may practice some of that weird spiritual stuff, but I didn't see any poisonous snakes, so I figured it was fine."

Lord Dilandau didn't look pleased. "I'll look at his arm tonight. Until I get a chance to observe this healer, we'll take care of our own."

"Yes sir." They all nodded.

"Are they waiting for us?" Lord Dilandau suddenly asked, looking at Guimel who grimaced sheepishly.

"Uh...yeah... in fact, the chieftain and some of his men wanted to come with me, but I dissuaded them from following me. I didn't know what state... uh...yeah," Guimel ended, scratching the back of his head. 

Guimel was floundering pitifully, but Gatty knew what he had been trying to avoid and understood. He didn't know if Lord Dilandau would be oriented enough to give off a professional air in front of the town leaders he needed to make an impression upon. 

"Well, we'd better not keep them waiting for much longer," Lord Dilandau said, using Gatty's shoulders to boost himself up. He stretched like a cat and dusted imaginary lint from his armor. He looked like a battle weary commander leading his troops home after a hard won victory. His armor still shone like the day Gatty polished it and the black and red leather looked soft and seemed to fit his body like a glove. His silver hair didn't have its usual bounce or shine, and his face was riddled with lines of exhaustion, but his red wine tinted eyes burned with purpose and determination. In short, Lord Dilandau looked like a battle weary commander leading his troops home after a hard won victory. 

If only that were the case...

"Lead the way, Guimel," Lord Dilandau said, pushing Guimel to begin walking. 

They marched into town like a small war party; all they needed was a flag. Gatty supposed they could have had Viole design one for them, though he'd probably put something vulgar on it that would offend Miguel. Gatty snickered to himself at the idea. 

They passed small wooden houses with grassy yards sectioned off by rickety fences. A few sheep sans wool baa'd at them in greeting as they passed. The smell of burning wood, cooking meat and bread assaulted their senses before the smell of unwashed citizens. The dirt pave road they walked on led them right into town square where a small gathering of people seemed to be waiting for them. The best dressed of the group stepped forward.

"That must be the mayor," Viole uttered.

Miguel snorted, "Must be, he seems like the only one who's had a bath in the past two weeks."

"Miguel!" Shesta hissed, but couldn't be heard over Miguel and Viole's chuckling.

The mayor was a tall sturdy looking man with skin bronzed and burned from many days out working in the sun, dark hair, and a kind face. He smiled and greeted them with a slight bow. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of Lord Dilandau, and his stance wavered a bit. It was a common reaction for people who saw Lord Dilandau for the first time. From the way he held himself to the glint in his eyes, anyone could see he was their leader, forget the different uniform.

"I am Omar Pointellier, chieftain, and I welcome you to our village. I invite you to stay in my house and in the house we have set aside for special guests. All provisions will be made for you. All you need do is ask for what you require. We are honored that you have chosen our town to take your much needed sabbatical. Our Dallet has been gone for too long and we are happy to have him back."

"We thank you for your hospitality and hope to repay you," Lord Dilandau said graciously. He smiled cordially and a few of the women in the crowd made appreciative noises. Gatty didn't particularly like the way he was being ogled and was sure the others were becoming very uncomfortable with the extra female attention they were receiving as well. When he scoped out the choice of men the women had in the bunch, he didn't blame them for looking elsewhere at the first handsome faces that wandered into town. What had Dallet done when he'd lived here? 

Maybe this was why he'd left...

They were led deeper into town, off the dirt road, where a few larger houses were located, made of stone. The largest house seemed to sit at the head of the table of the more modern homes. Where was the scrap yard? 

"I bet they have a public bathhouse that all the 'nobles' share behind the big house," Miguel whispered.

"Wonder if they replace the water," Viole whispered back.

Shesta was quietly seething at their comments, and Guimel was trying very hard not to laugh. Gatty was amused and surprised at the same time. Miguel making snooty comments he expected, but Viole joining in was something new. He never would have figured Viole to be a closet snob. 

"Replace the water? Hah... It'd be a wonder if they have soap," Miguel muttered, then yelped. "Shesta! I'm injured!"

The chieftain started at the yelp and Lord Dilandau frowned. He gave Miguel and Viole a look and they shut up dutifully. Gatty was going to have to ask Lord Dilandau to teach him that. It was very effective. 

"Is everything all right?"

"We're fine," Shesta said. Gatty turned his head a bit to look at them. Miguel was leaning heavily on Viole, who was forcing his mouth into a straight line, with a vague look of irritation on his face. 

The largest house turned out to be the one the one reserved for honored guests. Its insides were fairly humble, but good enough for Gatty. There were 4 bedrooms, each equipt with a king-size bed, a small kitchen, a parlor, and, of course, a state-of-the-art outhouse in the back. Mayor Pointellier showed them around and stood patiently, waiting to see if they had any requests.

"Where is Dallet?" Lord Dilandau asked. "I was told he is under the care of a healer."

"Yes," Pointellier smiled. "He is in excellent hands. Do any of the rest of you require any medical treatment." He looked toward Miguel who was lounging in a wooden arm chair looking very pale and a little sweaty. 

"No," Lord Dilandau said, "but thanks for offering. Before we arrived, Dallet mentioned a scrap yard where we may be able to find some spare guymelef parts and hardware. Where can we find this place?"

Pointellier blinked. "Not a even a mile away there's a pit full of old junk, but it's not a very pretty landmark that we like to show off to visitors. If you'd like to see..."

"A mile in which direction?" Lord Dilandau pressed.

"A straight line from this house; there's no way you could miss it. If you don't mind my asking, why are you interested in that place? There is nothing there of any value. Everything is broken.

Lord Dilandau gave Pointellier a charming smile. "I'll be the judge of that. Can you take me to where Dallet is please?"

Pointellier still looked puzzled but nodded. "Yes.... Captain Albatou, correct?"

Lord Dilandau nodded.

The mayor waved to the rest of the Slayers and walked from the room expecting Lord Dilandau to follow. Lord Dilandau glanced at Gatty. "Two to a room. After you settle in and clean up, I want you and Shesta to go check out that scrap yard."

"Yes sir."

"I'll be back with Dallet."

Gatty frowned as Lord Dilandau caught up with Pointellier and left the tiny manor. "One of us should go with him," Shesta said softly.

Gatty shook his head. "He would have asked, if he wanted one of us along. He's not going far, and he'll come back with Dallet. I doubt anyone's going to jump him in that short span of time or space."

Shesta groaned loudly and looked around the homely parlor. There was a long wooden table with 8 chairs around it, sitting on a furry rug that was probably the pelt of some animal. Small lanterns were placed strategically throughout the room on small end tables and mounted to the walls ready to be lit after the sun set. The light coming in through the large windows was more than enough for then. "Alright, how are we going to pick rooms?"

"They all look the same. Does anyone actually care what one they get stuck with?" Miguel grumbled. 

Gatty smirked. "No, not really. I was more worried about the subject of roommates. I already know I'm rooming with Shesta, if he doesn't mind."

Shesta shrugged, then caught Gatty's line of humor. "And Guimel, you're probably going to want to room with Dallet, huh?"

Guimel chuckled. "If Dallet doesn't mind, that is."

Miguel scowled. "Well then, I guess I'll just have to room with Lord Dilandau."

Viole looked hurt. "Miguel, we always room together. Come on, I've still got so much to tell you! We can talk without interruption!"

The look on Miguel's face made Gatty, Shesta, and Guimel nearly wet themselves laughing. Viole pouted and huffed indignantly. 

"Ok, lets get Miguel to his room, and then we'll go check out that pit," Gatty said. Miguel flinched as he was helped back onto his feet by Shesta and Gatty, and he rested his head on Gatty's shoulder. After choosing the closest room and lying Miguel down on the bed, Shesta went about undressing the wounded area. Gatty was about to question his actions, but stopped at Miguel's gasp when Shesta's fingers brushed across his stitches. 

"Damn..." Shesta sighed, staring at the slightly reddened area. "Looks like we should have let Lord Dilandau handle all the stitches after all." 

"Please don't tell me it's infected," Miguel mumbled, his eyes tightly closed.

"Fine, I won't. I'm gonna have to go back to my Alseid and get the first aid supplies. Gatty, you and Guimel go check out the site." Shesta took one of the pillows from the top of the bed and tucked it under Miguel's injured leg to elevate it. "Get Viole to come watch him."

"No!" Miguel wailed.

"Hey, you guys can make fun of the village some more," Gatty said lightly, patting Miguel's shoulder as he snarled at him.

Gatty shook his head as he left the room, parting ways with Shesta. He tapped Guimel on the shoulder as he past him. "Hey, go sit with Miguel for a bit. Viole, come with me. We got a junkyard to check out."  
  
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Dilandau sat quietly on a soft floor mat with his long legs crossed under his body watching the young male healer massaging a thick green salve into Dallet's injured arm. Dallet's eyes were closed, a look of peace and well being on his features. An older man sat on his knees just beside the boy healer, observing the job being done. Teacher and apprentice, Dilandau appraised.

So far they had done no harm, and Dallet looked a bit better than he had. He would have to ask the healers if he could borrow some of that salve for Miguel, and he wondered if they had anything for headaches from hell that wouldn't go away. 

"Lord Dilandau?" Dallet's voice floated over to him.

"Hmm?"

"I'm ready."

Dilandau opened eyes he hadn't known were closed to see Dallet standing in front of him, his arm in a fresh sling. 

"Oh." He didn't move for a minute and Dallet offered him a hand.

"Are you ok? While we're here, maybe you could..."

Dilandau sighed and took the hand offered. He stared at the two healers who stood before them with their heads slightly bowed in respect. "Can you show me what's in that salve you used?"

The older healer raised his head and smiled, his teeth were bad. "Yes sir, I can."

Dilandau nodded, diverting his eyes from the man's mouth. "If you're free tomorrow morning then, I'll come back."

"You can come whenever you like, milord." The older healer bowed his dark head. 

Dilandau and Dallet left the small wooden shack. "Are you going to let the healers look at Miguel or are you going to take of him, Lord Dilandau?"

"I'm going to," Dilandau said tiredly. "While I don't mind their methods for strained muscles, I find neither their dwelling nor their tools sanitary enough to deal with deep wounds." 

It was true. The hard wood floors of the shack were worn with age and various pests had poked their heads inside to stare at Dilandau. The store room where the supplies were kept looked as if its floors hadn't been swept in ages and its shelves never dusted. The old musty odor that could only come from something decaying was poorly masked by the many jars of burning incense that could be found in every corner Dilandau glanced in. The only nice thing about the place was the window, for one could look outside and relieve one's eyes from the horrors witnessed inside the shack. 

Dallet grinned. "It was kind of gross in there, huh? Um...how was the house?"

Dilandau turned his head slightly to gaze at Dallet. His face seemed a little flushed, and Dilandau was tempted to check for fever, when he realized the boy was blushing. Dilandau took in the poor surroundings and thought of the more elegant backgrounds of some of his other Slayers. Could it be, that Dallet was embarrassed?

Dallet hadn't even mentioned his parents. He hadn't wanted to make a detour to his home, none of his family had come to see him, or greet them... 

"Dallet?"

"This place isn't what the others are used to, I know. Somehow I don't really remember it being this bad, you know? But I guess it was because I had never seen better before I left."

"Where's your family?"

Dallet gave a sad smile then. "Wondering why they're not with us?"

Dilandau didn't reply; he just stared, knowing his Slayer would say more.

"Momma didn't want to see me. 'You run away; you stay away.'" Dallet mimicked bitterly. "Dad....he does whatever she says. The kids? Consumption."

"I'm sorry," Dilandau said. 

"Don't be," Dallet said flatly. "I didn't come here to see them. I came to see about some junk. Did you get a chance to look at any of it yet?"

"I sent Gatty to do it," Dilandau said, still studying Dallet carefully.

"I bet there's plenty of good junk back there. I bet I can figure out a way to tap into some Zaibach frequencies with more radio parts, and the Alseides don't really need all that much work. We can meet the deadline."

"Are you really ok with not seeing your parents?" 

"They don't want to see me." Dallet shrugged. "It's their choice. It's not like I was ever happy there. The only people I would have wanted to see were my younger sisters, but they're not there anymore. I'm perfectly fine with the family I have now."

Dilandau almost sighed at the word 'sisters.' "Any family at all is worth at least speaking to Dallet. It won't hurt to pass by your home. Maybe if your parents actually see you, they'll soften."

Dallet shook his head adamantly. "I don't care; I really don't. I wasn't ever planning on coming back here at all. I don't need them and I don't want them and they obviously feel the same about me. Can we just go to the house? I've never been inside of it before, and I'd like to lie down. That salve and incense made me drowsy."

Dilandau nodded. "Whatever you need to do, Dallet." 

He made a mental note to himself to find out where Dallet lived for later as he walked beside the other boy. They entered the guest house to find Guimel lighting lanterns around the parlor. The sun was setting, taking the natural lighting with it. Dallet inspected the house curiously, investigating the rooms. He opened one door and closed it again softly before moving on. 

Dilandau went to that door curiously and peered inside. Miguel was stretched over the large bed fast asleep, his face slightly flushed. Shesta was closing a first aid box and looked up to see Dilandau in the doorway. 

"Lord Dilandau." He stood. "The wound has been infected, but I cleaned it up really well. He should be fine, but I didn't secure the bandage because I figured you'd want to look at it."

Good thinking, Shesta, but... "I trust you. I know you've done a good job," Dilandau said softly. He was beyond looking over his Slayers' shoulders and double checking their work. They were fully competent and had proved that time and time again while saving his life and taking care of him. If anything, he would want one of them to double check him. 

Shesta blinked in surprise, then beamed. "Th...thank you, sir." 

They slipped out of the room together, closing the door. 

"I think Miguel should have the room to himself," Dilandau said. "I'll share with Viole."

Shesta's eyes glittered with mirth.

"What?"

"Miguel's going to be so jealous. He wanted to share with you," Shesta giggled.

Dilandau blinked. "He did?"

"Yeah, you can ask Viole about it tonight. He and Gatty are still out looking at those parts. They must have found something good."

Dilandau sighed, "Perhaps." 

"What do you want to do with the new parts?" Shesta asked. "I know we can make some minor repairs to the Alseides, but did you have something else in mind?"

Dilandau shrugged. "I want to rewire the homing devices on our Alseides for one to help us locate the Vione. Then I want to listen in to some Zaibach transmissions to make sure their plans haven't been altered. I know the frequency; we just need to adjust our radios to pick it up. Dallet thinks he can do it with the right tools."

Shesta nodded along. 

"After that, I don't know," Dilandau admitted with a shrug. "We're all pretty creative, though, and I'm sure we'll come up with something... Something that's going to shock the hell out of Zaibach."

And make them wish they'd never made me.

He shut his eyes as his heart began to beat faster in excitement. Not yet... he told himself carefully, calming the raging torrent of fury, passion, and exhilaration that wanted to rip through his system like a tornado and send him into a frenzy. He had to stay in control. His men needed his control. 

He needed his control, otherwise the pain would start anew. 

He opened his eyes as his heart rate went back to normal, and he turned to Shesta. "Lets go see what they've found."

"Yes sir."

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Author's Note: See, told you it was long. I hope you liked it though. Next chapter will be the infiltration of the Vione, the Dragonslayers decide what their new purpose is going to be, and we'll see what Van and Allen are up to. Also I'll have figured out what role I want Valeska to play in the Freid massacre. Well please leave a review and tell me what you think. It motivates me, really ;)

Responses:

Koneri: Hello! Thank you for leaving a reviewing. It's always nice to have mail in your inbox that isn't about viagra. Don't kill off anymore Slayers? What? You honestly think I'd kill of more than I already have? I'm not that evil... **grins wickedly, Muhahahhahaha!** We'll see what happens. I'm glad you think the idea sounds original. There are so many stories out there and it's hard to find an idea that hasn't been done or has only partially been done and you take it in a new direction. The separation thing is very "used," but I'm glad the rest of the story is different enough for you to think it's original. Take care and I hope you review again!

Lavi: Yeah this thing is a beast to read. I had to reread it a few times after taking too long of a break from the story when I needed to write new chapters. I'm glad you enjoyed it though and I'm glad you like Van. I always found him amusing while watching the series. Now stop blabbing my plot, lol. You did guess some of it, but you make it sound too easy....and one thing I'm naughty about is making things hard for characters, hehehehe. That's the fun part. :) Thank you so much for reviewing and I hope to hear from you again!

Quelinor: Hahahaha, Dilandau and Celena remind you of Golum and Smeagol. I never thought of it that way...but hehehehe.... That's really amusing. They do! About the long story thing.... I've never written a successful short story in my life, lol. I'm too long winded, and I guess the other Esca authors you've read from are the same. Good thing you like long stories, huh? Thanks for reviewing! Take care and I hope you liked this installment of the story.

DragonSteel: Hey, thanks for reviewing. You don't have to apologize for not doing it. I'm guilty of forgetting to leave reviews myself. Bad me, because I know how much I love getting them. I've gottena bit better though lol ;). Glad you like the story! Take care!

Namida: Here's more! Lol!

Nikku: Hey chic! Hehehehehe, dang...I don't even know where to begin. Yes, Miguel is alive, happy? Will I keep him alive... well I certainly did go through a lot to save him, it would be a shame to kill him off so quickly now that he's back. Hmmm.... Yeah, going back to Zaibach is dangerous...but hey, it's Dilandau lol. As for the second fate alteration person, lol, you'll see what role she plays. And yes, Folken will be on the Vione. Thanks for reviewing; I'm glad you still like this and the filler chapter lol. I don't really know if this counts as a filler too... nothing really big happened, but I'm setting the stage. Oh well, take care!

Tenshiamanda: :) I'm happy you like the story...and who says all the Dragonslayers left behind are dead? Wow, I'm on your favorite's list? Whoo hoo! Lol! Well take care and thanks for the review!

DeadlyBeauty1: Dude, your cookies are the reason why my butt is getting bigger and my pants tighter! Lol! You can have Miguel, but then you'll have to take Viole too, so I won't have to listen to him whine about missing Miguel. I'm glad you like their characters. Viole is fun to write. It's like any time I think of something annoying, I smirk and go: Viole can say that to someone (Miguel). Well, thankee for reviewing and I'm glad you like the story still. Hope you like this chapter too.

Rita: Sorry for making you wait so long... Sorry for this chapter taking so long. I've been so busy and sidetracked, and ugh. But here it is, and after graduation the updates will be as regular as they were when I first started this story last summer. Those updates were almost weekly. Maybe I'll finish it by June... hopefully. Thanks for reviewing!

Blue ice 2: Hehehe, yes Miguel is back, and Van's been having a thing for Dilandau. For some reason, I'm obsessed with the idea, and I have so many fun things planned to further fuel Van's infatuation.

Kou-Kagerou: Hey girl...yeah... I almost e-mailed you back when you told me my deadline had expired. I hadn't realized it had been that long. I thought I had updated in March, then I checked...hmm...guess not. So I got to work, work, work on this. I nursed it from 4 pages to 17 in a week and got it up for you :). It's still not a big epic moving chapter, but it is setting the stage for the next which will be. That one will be out in mid May after graduation. I'm glad you enjoyed my filler chapter. I love your reviews because they point out the good, the bad, and the ugly. I love you picked up on Miguel realizing Van's attraction to his captain lol and being protective. I did put a little of Dallet's life into this chapter with hints that there will be more of it later :), and as for Miguel telling Dilandau about Van...I wonder when that topic of conversation will ever become appropriate lol. Uh...leader....there's this guy that's been checking out your ass... Um...lets 3 or 4 chapters before I finish... Eh... it's hard to guess just how many chapters I'll need to finish this up, but I can guess that I might be done with it in June.... When in June I can't say lol, might be the last day of it, lol. Thanks for your review chic. I always look forward to them. Take care!

Aurebec: Hey! No we didn't see Folken in this chapter. I wanted to give the bad guys a little POV for a bit. I tried to give Folken a part, but it just didn't flow for me so I stuck with the Slayers. From where I've placed everyone in this chapter I can launch right into action for the next and start with the Vione. Well, I hope you liked this chapter. It wasn't exciting, but you know where the people we like are and that they've got plans. Thanks for reviewing!

Macky: That's a cool suggestion, and you never know, it may happen. (I ain't telling, ;). But as you see from Valeska she has no intention of being Dilandau's replacement, and that's stirring up some resentment of him inside of her. Thanks for your great reviews and I hope this chapter hasn't been a disappointment. It's not riveting or anything, but I when I started writing it instead of moving along like I wanted to, I played with the Slayers a bit and tried to explore Slayers I hadn't really given a POV too before. Take care!

Feye Morgan: Whoo hoo! Love your long reviews. I come and check for them like I'd come and check for a story update. They are so funny! Second semester of college huh? I remember being that young. Geez...I'm old. Well I got a whole year off after May to plan out what I want to do with myself :). Yes I freed Miguel and the Dragonslayers have a plan...a crazy one... I really thought about what you said, and I hope you can see that in the chapter in Guimel's thoughts. This one was slow moving and it's basically a quiet before a storm, but I hope it was ok. I was going to move right along and get to the action, but as I started penning in the Slayer parts the more I realized these are the main characters and some of them haven't even had a POV yet. It's my fault, I know, and I'm sorry if I slowed the story down too much to bring it in. The next chapter will move, I promise, even if I have to get out and push. The Dragonslayers' new purpose will be announced, Valeska's role will be defined, and we'll see about Van's crush lol. Is Folken still planning on deserting and joining the Dragonslayers? Hey, why not? Lol. We'll see. Thanks for the review chic; I always enjoy and appreciate them greatly. I hope you like this chapter and I hope to hear from you again.... and.... I expect an update from you too! Lol. Take care!

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	17. Chapter 16

Author's Note: Has it been two months? I am so sorry! I've been so busy, and lazy, and yeah... Well, I am now a college graduate with a BA in psychology and will be going back to school again in the Spring for a second Bachelors in English. (Yeah, I'm pretty much going to be in school forever, because after that I plan to get a Master of Fine Arts). Here is the new chapter, and I hope everyone likes it as much as you've liked previous chapters. I'm really trying to push this story along; it is so hard to keep it moving. I end up having so much fun playing with the characters I forget that there's supposed to be a plot.  
  
This chapter follows the series closely in some respects, so if it jumps around a bit too much, just consult episode 14 ( I think it's 14) because I didn't feel it was important to do a play by play documentation of events we already know transpired. I just cut to the important stuff.  
  
Now I gotta warn you that I'm not too sure about this chapter, so you'll have to tell me if it's alright.  
  
Reviewer responses are at the end as usual. Thank you so much for all reading the story, and I really hope you like this.  
  
Oh, one last warning: this is kinda lengthy, so if you don't have a lot of time, you might want to save this for later.

* * *

Chapter 16  
  
General Adelphos had just given the order for all units to mobilize. Folken sat on his throne in the virtually empty main control room, wondering when Dilandau would arrive. He knew the boy would return to the Vione after what had transpired. Dilandau would wait a few hours after Adelphos' initial orders to avoid the chance of running into stragglers, of course, so he wouldn't be there any time soon.  
How was Dilandau? He had lost 9 soldiers and it had been days since he'd had so much as a medical checkup. To say Folken was worried would have been an understatement. He was half-afraid Dilandau wouldn't show up that day, letting him know just how badly off the captain was. The captain...  
The ex-captain.  
No one had accused Folken of helping Dilandau and his men get away or of encouraging the retaliation, but he was sure plenty of people had wanted to. He had been so certain he was going to be receiving a court-marshal that he'd packed a bag; he was finished in Zaibach. But he wasn't. He'd been left at his post, overseeing all of Zaibach's affairs like a major scandal hadn't happened on his floating fortress. The bodies of the two sorcerers and their bodyguards had been taken away by special military personnel, and Folken had heard nothing about it since. He didn't even know if new sorcerers had been appointed yet-- if there were to be any new appointments at all. Now that Zaibach was about to gain the power seat, Folken didn't really see anymore need for sorcerers. Dornkirk would surely lose interest in Fate Alterations and such, after he'd learned the secret of Atlantis.  
Folken only hoped they would set any remaining specimens free, namely Celena. That would be a nice present to give to Dilandau when he returned, but sadly to say he still couldn't gain access to her or her files. Instead, Folken would present to Dilandau and his remaining Slayers a different gift. He rose slowly from his throne, straightening his robes reflexively. He'd completed the upgrades to the Oreades and Alseides models, and seven new shiny guymelefs sat in the hangar awaiting their new masters.  
He only hoped they appreciated them.  
He was betraying his country for a second time by not warning anyone that he knew Dilandau would board the Vione and by giving him new weapons that he knew the boy might use to destroy Zaibach's mission. The mission was so important; how could Folken let it be jeopardized for the sake of one boy's well being? He hadn't done as much for his own brother... or had he? He had let Van escape...  
True, he was still out to recapture his brother, but deep down something told him that Van was never going to be successfully taken into the custody of Zaibach again. He'd given away their only chance to possess the dragon, and he was unleashing one of the greatest threats Zaibach could face upon them– Dragonslayers scorned.  
He walked down the metal staircase where two soldiers sat dutifully watching blue screens for updates from the men out on the ground. Without the Dragonslayers, Folken had no special forces to direct and keep tabs on. They had originally planned to have the Dragonslayers infiltrate the power seat of Freid. Dilandau would have ensured them a victory and he was sure Adelphos mourned the loss of Dilandau in that context. Who did they have that was skilled enough to take on the heart of Freid?  
Adelphos had appointed a new group to the task, headed by a person Folken had never heard of before. Valeska, he believed it was. The captain was a last minute appointment that Folken hadn't been pleased about. He didn't like being surprised, and he certainly didn't feel an amateur captain was suited for such a delicate task. He also didn't like the fact that Adelphos had chosen to guide this new captain himself, instead of letting Folken do it, and what was worse, the Emperor approved it! Something odd was going on and more secrets were being passed behind his back.  
Perhaps someone had accused him of treason, and both Adelphos and the Emperor were just waiting for him to do something else-- like help the Dragonslayers-- so they would have actual proof in which to convict him.  
The more he thought about it, the more probable the idea became. The Emperor didn't summon him as much as he used to. Folken frowned; it was very possible that he was falling out of Zaibach's favor. He would have shrugged, if he were younger.  
"Alert me of any major happenings," Folken said to the soldiers who stood to salute him.  
"Yes sir."  
He left the room without a backward glance. He shouldn't be leaving his station. As Strategos of Zaibach, he should be at the helm of his ship, watching over every move made and guiding the hands of the military, but as Folken, he was needed elsewhere. He had to make sure everything was ready for Dilandau's arrival. The boy wouldn't be able to linger and Folken had to make sure he got in and out as quickly as possible.  
You're lucky I like you, Dilandau. Gods know why... but I do.

* * *

Valeska sat in her new Alseid unit, tapping her long fingers against the console and wondering once again how Adelphos had talked her into leading a team to Freid and also into taking on the task of capturing the Emperor's dumb dragon. She had refused this mission vehemently; she hadn't wanted it at the time. But then Adelphos had tempted her with all of the wonderful things she would get to do. She had gotten to fight and kill. She was in an Alseid! She had men ready to jump off cliffs to their doom because she commanded them to do so.  
This was what she wanted, and her earlier decision to avoid the mission was foolish. She needed experience. Her men needed to see her in action, in a real battle situation. Anyone can do well in simulated training sequences.  
Valeska knew that she was the best and now everyone else knew it too. She had done that bastard Albatou's job and had done it better than he ever could!  
They wouldn't call her the captain that filled in for Dilandau Albatou; they'd call her the captain that usurped him.  
Bye-bye, Dilly-boy.  
"Lord Valeska, there's no sign of the dragon."  
She almost growled at the interruption.  
No sign of the dragon. Good. If Valeska had been asked what she thought of the Emperor's dragon catching obsession, she probably would have been court-marshaled. In her opinion, it was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard of. They were in the middle of a beautiful grand massacre; who gave a flying shit about a white dragon? The only thing that interested her about it, was the fact that Albatou had caught and lost it in barely the span of two days and then couldn't get his hands on it again since then. As much as Valeska would like to believe Albatou was a loser, she knew that was not the case. Why was this dragon so hard to contain?  
She chewed her bottom lip and blew a wayward strand of hair from her eyes. The dragon was nowhere in sight... and... she frowned deeply, surveying the damage she and her team had just done to the heart of Freid. The Freidian soldiers hadn't put up nearly enough resistance .  
Something just didn't feel right, and as much as she wanted to barge into the last temple and start the slaughter anew...  
"Gorgons are preparing to move onto the castle grounds," Lyle's voice crackled over her speakers.  
"No..." She halted her team. Narrowing her eyes, she released her hold on the controls of her Alseid. "Gorgons will hold position right here."  
If Freid wanted to play, they would have to come out into the open and do it.  
There were no protests to her strange orders. Her precious Gorgons wouldn't dare question her, if they knew what was good for them.  
She snickered. Training her men had been fun. She'd quickly weeded out all of the ones who weren't worthy to stand with her. Her methods were a bit.... unconventional... to others, but very effective in the short frame of time she had been given to prepare for battle. She and her squadron were to be given brand new Alseides, and she couldn't have anyone incompetent bearing the seal of a Gorgon on the field to embarrass her while she was trying to establish a name for herself.  
Gorgon...what kind of a team name was Gorgon? She'd looked it up and learned it was the name of a band of hideously ugly sisters in a foreign mythology that could turn men to stone when they gazed upon them. Considering the special capabilities the Alseides possessed, she found she didn't mind the name as much as she initially had.  
She chuckled as she fingered the switch that enabled her guymelef to spit out a mass cloud of liquid adhesive that caused enemies to freeze in their tracks and be immobilized while she smashed through them.  
She loved the yielding shrieks of crunching metal.  
"Um, Lord Valeska, if you don't mind my asking, what are we waiting..."  
As Valeska was about to shoot a Crima Claw out at the fool who dared to ask questions, the castle before them seemed to implode and sink into the ground. Valeska was momentarily distracted as she watched the debris and fire erupt around the building.  
She had known something was up!  
They had destroyed their own castle rather than surrender to the enemy.  
It was a great move by Freid, but she was having a hard time getting over how many men the country had lost by making it.  
"Good play Freid," Valeska whispered; then not forgetting previous business, she shot a Crima Claw at the questioning soldier. Unmoved by the scream of pain and surprised gasps of her troops, she moved into ground zero to examine the damage Freid had done to itself.

* * *

Van stood in the hatch of Escaflowne, leaning against the cool metal. He was imagining himself becoming one with the white mecha. He wanted its movements to be his own, so that he could fight harder and faster than ever before with less synapses between his reflexes and the Escaflowne's. He envisioned every joint of the Escaflowne in his mind, his pulse merging with that of the Escaflowne's.  
He was slowly losing himself, burying his mind beneath layers of white steel, when... "Van?"  
He jumped a bit, almost toppling backward which wouldn't have been pretty. He turned to see Hitomi down at the foot of the Escaflowne, staring up at him. What did she want now? He peered around her, relieved at least, to see that Merle hadn't followed her in. He loved Merle dearly, but she could be a real pain in the ass at times.  
He slowly made his way down the stairs, grabbing onto the rail as he was hit by a sudden dizzy spell.  
"You don't look so good," Hitomi commented as she studied him. Van thought about rolling his eyes, but decided against it. The girl was moody enough as it was, he didn't want to do anything he thought might upset her.  
  
He sat on the last step, resting his hands on his knees. He felt like he'd just released his wings and tried to fly up a cliff with Hitomi in his arms.  
He thought about that, flying up a cliff with Hitomi... Damn that girl had been heavy. She didn't look like she weighed that much, but by the gods... He would have dropped her that night he'd flown down to save her from plunging to her doom, if he hadn't been on such an adrenaline rush.  
Van wished he was on an adrenaline rush then. He felt like he could fall over right there and sleep for days. He was completely drained and that just wouldn't do; he had to be ready to fight in a little while. If merging with Escaflowne took this much energy every time, it probably wasn't a very good idea to do it. Too late for this battle though. "What were you doing just then?" Hitomi's green eyes bore into his and he fought not to look away, though her face blurred.  
"Just....trying to do that thing you taught me," Van said off- handedly. He looked down at his scuffed, black boots. If he concentrated on one color at a time, his vision didn't swim quite so much. Just how long had he been with Escaflowne anyway?  
His stomach grumbled at him angrily, and he realized he must have missed a meal or two. That was probably why Hitomi had come hunting for him. She could be so concerned about his well-being at times, unless she was swooning over Allen.  
He tried to make himself sneer at the name, but couldn't. Allen Schezar was becoming less and less of an annoyance as the days in each others' company passed. He was getting used to the pretty boy and his rowdy, yet entertaining companions. Sometimes he even appreciated their company.  
It was better than being alone with his thoughts.  
Van's mind kept replaying the sacrifices that the loyal men of Freid had made for their monarch and for his friends. They had let themselves be killed so that Van, Allen, Hitomi, Merle, and the royal family could escape. Damn Zaibach. Another country was going to lie in ruins for their impossibly ridiculous cause.  
'Bring an end to fighting by fighting...'  
Van was about to snort, but remembered that someone else was in the room with him.  
He raised his eyes a bit, graduating to two colors at once by staring at his black pants and the tail end of his red shirt. His eyes crossed for a brief second before clearing. Slowly, Van rested his gaze back upon Hitomi.  
"Look, I'm sorry about what happened before. About when I tried to make you do that reading for me earlier. I realize that I've been depending on you too much to do things like that for me, and it was time I started to do some things for myself. I... I'm trying to synchronize my thoughts and movements with the Escaflowne. I want my movements to be its and vice versa. Can you imagine how fast I could move if it worked?"  
Hitomi blinked at him for a moment.  
Why had he said all that? He really didn't feel he owed her an apology for anything and she certainly didn't need an explanation as to what he was doing; it didn't affect her. So he'd asked her to do a reading for him and she'd had a mini-nervous breakdown.  
So she'd had a couple of bad visions in the past? Hitomi was the only girl that pulled her own weight in their motley crew, and now she was saying she didn't want to anymore.  
"It's ok, Van," She said after a pause. "About the vision thing, I mean. I was a little hysterical, and I'm kind of embarrassed about that now. Pretty pathetic, huh?"  
It was Van's turn to blink. In girl language, just what did that mean? Was she saying that it was ok for him to ask her to do readings for him again?  
"Just how exactly are you going about this...synching with the Escaflowne, Van? I don't recall ever showing you how to do a thing like that. I don't think I even know how to do something like that." Hitomi took a step closer to him.  
Van sighed. Of course she would leave the previous conversation up in the air without telling him if she would bite his head off or not for asking her to pull out her cards.  
Women.  
Maybe that was why he liked...  
Good gods... He had almost thought...  
He sighed to himself. It was time to admit that maybe he did like men. Though he was only attracted to one, it didn't mean that he couldn't be attracted to others. Maybe... maybe he could talk to Allen about it.  
The man was older and wiser....well older, definitely. Meaning he had more experience, and Van desperately needed to talk to someone.  
"Van?'  
Oh right. Hitomi had asked a question.  
"Um, remember that dowsing thing you showed me?" Van scratched the back of his head and grimaced. Touching of the head was not such a good idea right now. "Well you showed me how to concentrate my energy to see the unseen... so I figure if I concentrate hard enough I can move the Escaflowne with my thoughts."  
It sounded really good in my head.  
Hitomi stared at him as if he'd stripped naked and asked her to join him in dance.  
Yeah...  
Well, it was mighty uncomfortable to sit and be stared at, so Van decided it was time to get up. He rose shakily to his feet, locking his knees to stay upright. After a second or two, he was confident he could walk out of there without doing something embarrassing, like falling on his face.  
"I'll see you later."  
Stiff legged, he walked out of the room, leaving Hitomi to stare after him, probably thinking: Men.  
Well, what would she prefer instead, women?  
Hah!

* * *

Should the little Prince of Freid ever be told that he was the son of Allen Schezar? Allen couldn't quite put the thought out of mind as he thrust himself into battle.  
Battle? No.  
This was an all out war. It seemed like every soldier in the Zaibach army had knocked on the door of Freid that morning. For every man Allen knocked down, it seemed three more rose in his place.  
A long lock of damp blond hair flopped across forehead and clung in a diagonal across the bridge of his nose and left cheekbone as he had to whip around to parry the down swing of a guymelef from behind. If there was ever an incentive for him to get a hair cut, that was it! There was no time to sweep a hand across his face and clear the hair, so he had to endure the slimy itch.  
Allen grunted in frustration as he saw another ally go down...and yet another strand of hair gave his face a sloppy kiss and decided to keep the other company.  
After cutting down a few more soldiers, he spared a hand in which to pull back his hair, and in that moment he noticed the purple Zaibach guymelef. He glowered at the pilot's skill. He was superb and brutal in his furious attacks. Many broken guymelefs laid at his feet, spewing their life's blood.  
Allen shuddered, looked like Dilandau had gotten a new guymelef. He watched the purple giant spit out a steady stream of milky liquid, drenching a Freidian guymelef before it. The ally guymelef froze in place and was punched straight through the stomach by the purple giant's metal fist.  
Allen grimaced then gasped in horror when he saw Dilandau's next target.  
Duke Freid.  
Dilandau wasted no time in charging the Duke and attacking with no reserve. Allen had to run to place himself between the liquid metal sword of the purple guymelef and the Duke's damaged guymelef.  
"I'll settle this! Stand clear, Duke Freid!"  
Allen didn't move until he heard sounds of the Duke's mecha retreating.  
"My, my, my... what a gallant gesture, soldier," a voice purred teasingly from the opposing guymelef.  
That... wasn't Dilandau.  
"So you want to die for your monarch?" The sword was withdrawn as the soldier in the purple guymelef sized him up. "How... touching. Well, hope you fight better than your friends."  
Allen brought his sword into an up-block to catch the powerful downward blow dealt to him.  
"You're fast," the pilot teased.  
Allen growled in response and struck out, causing the soldier to jump back. The soldier roared with laughter.  
"Finally, a fight that will last more than a minute!" he crowed excitedly.  
Perfect, another Dilandau. Where did Zaibach keep finding these crazy children?  
He wondered if this one looked anything like Dilandau; he certainly fought like him. Allen found himself giving ground and taking a step back.  
He'd been fighting longer than that other pilot had been alive; there was no way in hell he was going to be forced to take another step back!  
"Getting tired, my dear?" the pilot cooed. "Want to rest... forever?"  
"I'm not losing to you!"  
"It speaks! I was beginning to wonder about you! Most of your friends cursed me to hell and back before I killed them. Are you going to flex your vocabulary on me too. Come on, teach me some new words!"  
Ok, Dilandau hadn't been that annoying. He hadn't talked nearly as much, but he'd hit twice as hard. Allen blocked and attacked, struggling to make the kid give ground.  
"This is great! What's your name soldier. I wanna be able to label the guy who kept me entertained for so long."  
Allen narrowed his eyes. "Schezar, Allen Schezar." Maybe his name would throw the pilot for a curve.  
"Schezar..." The pilot did take a step back then.  
"What's the matter?" Allen taunted. "Scared of me?"  
He forced the purple guymelef to step back again.  
"Have you forgotten how to speak now?" Allen couldn't help but smirk. The pilot was right; this was entertaining. "What's your name?- since I've given you mine."  
The pilot seemed to wake from his stupor then and Allen was almost gutted when the pilot thrust his sword forward, as it was he nearly toppled over.  
That's what you get for being cocky, Allen, he scolded himself.  
"Valeska... Lord Valeska. Although, there's no point in your knowing it now. I'm going to kill you and lie your lifeless corpse out for all to see, Allen Schezar."  
Allen almost took another step back at the malice in the pilot's voice when he'd said his name. Had they met?  
His momentary distraction was to the pilot's– Valeska's– advantage. Allen almost wanted to shut his eyes and raise his hands in surrender. The opposing sword was aimed at his heart.  
The clash of steel meeting more steel made him open his eyes. Escaflowne was now standing in front of Scherazade, shielding it. He should have felt shamed at the need to be protected by Van like some... women... but alas, his bacon was saved. He hadn't wanted to die and Van owed him one. Actually Van owed him three, but who was counting?  
"I'll take care of this Allen; you protect Duke Freid."  
Duke Freid? Hadn't Allen told the man to get out of there? He whirled around and froze for the second time that day.  
What in the hell was that fool doing?  
He was standing in the middle of the battlefield with his hands  
raised in the air like a... Dammit! In a flash, Allen was out of Scherazade and rushing across the field to save the already doomed Duke. Allen cried out as several arrows struck the Duke in vital areas, and arms wrapped around him to hold him from going to the Duke's side as he fell.  
He fought the restraining grasp of one of the large Freidian soldiers and whirled around to glare at the man.  
"Wait Allen," the man continued to constrain him.  
"What are you doing? Duke Freid needs our help..."  
"Our fight is over. It was Duke Freid's decision." The man bowed his head, letting Allen know he did not completely agree with the decision made. "Please understand."  
Gods... Allen stared at the still body of the Duke, at the still bodies on the field, at the bleeding guymelefs...  
He fell to his knees.  
Zaibach had won.

* * *

"Can everybody hear me?" Dilandau asked over the new communications network Dallet, Gatty, and Guimel had fused together from the old guymelef parts in the nearby scrap yard.  
"Yeah...loud and clear. Can you tone it down a bit, sir?" Viole complained back, and everyone chuckled lightly.  
"I heard you just fine, Lord Dilandau," Gatty said, and Dilandau could practically see him rolling his eyes at Viole. "We're ready when you are."  
Ready when I am?  
I was ready yesterday.  
He hadn't been able to sleep the night before he was so anxious. He, instead, chose to sit in Dallet's Alseid, which he would be piloting in Dallet's stead, and listen to Zaibach transmissions as the soldiers made their way to Freid.  
He deduced that at least 3 fortresses were left open for attack as their soldiers were dispatched. It wasn't a very smart thing to do, but Zaibach had no enemies that could fly and be able to detect the locations of their fortresses when cloaked in invisibility.  
Or so they thought.  
The Vione had been easily tracked and Dilandau wanted to believe Folken had made it that way and was keeping the airship parked in the same place for Dilandau.  
Folken.  
Dilandau hadn't heard his voice over one transmission. It didn't really disturb him. Folken was never a man of many words, and he usually delegated the communication tasks to his underlings. But still, Dilandau had wanted to hear the man's voice at least once. He didn't know if...  
What if...  
Folken could have been accused of treason. Traitors were executed immediately. If Folken wasn't aboard the Vione, then to go there today would be walking into a trap. They were taking a big risk, and Dilandau had found himself pondering if it was all worth it while he sat alone in the dark, tapping his foot to the thud of his pulse in his ears.  
He had six men that he knew were alive and well. Did he really want to take the chance of sacrificing their lives as well? Dilandau had considered going alone, but his Slayers wouldn't let him get far if he did. Wherever he went, they went.  
He caressed the piloting stick with his index finger, the slickness of leather wrapped steel bringing him back into current awareness. It was time to go.  
He prayed he wasn't making a mistake. He prayed there would be something left of his Slayers on the Vione to find. He prayed that Folken was alright and that he would... could... tell Dilandau what to do next.  
If the Slayers left behind were dead, all dead... he repressed the devastating emotion that followed that thought. Control, he had to stay in control. He'd prepared for the possibility. He wouldn't fall apart in front of his men again. He didn't know how they would react in the face of tragedy, and if he had to be the tough one, he would be. He would not fall to pieces; he would not cry... But...  
If they were dead, what then?  
He'd exact revenge, but how?  
The pounding in his ears was so loud that he could barely hear himself when he announced to Gatty, Shesta, Guimel, and Viole, "Prepare to launch."  
Trap or not, dead or alive, here we come.

* * *

Folken was in the clinic with Marie, packing the last of the medical kit they had designed for Dilandau to take with him wherever he decided to go, when Pearce informed him that the Dragonslayers were within proximity of the Vione.  
"You know your boy," Marie smirked. "All the way down to him figuring out a way to track down the Vione without being tracked himself." She zipped the small, brown leather bag. "I hope he appreciates all of the goodies you're giving him. He'll think it's his birthday or something."  
"Or something," Folken said softly. "Thank you, Pearce." The soldier bowed his head and retreated from the room.  
"You really need to get that man something special next holiday," Marie nodded after Pearce and Folken suppressed a grin.  
He supposed he should. Pearce was certainly putting himself in a lot of danger by helping him. Folken didn't know what he had done to earn such loyalty from the man, but he was glad he had.  
"I'm going to go out to meet Dilandau on the flight deck. Can you...?"  
"Prepare things for a quick check up? Why certainly, my lord," Marie dimpled at him as he left the room.  
He supposed he should get Marie something special next holiday as well. The woman really was something else. She'd been the first physician appointed aboard the Vione and the first person to actually try to make his acquaintance that he genuinely liked.  
  
The flight deck was barren of guymelefs except the seven he'd made for Dilandau and his men. He'd finished seven, but he had originally designed sixteen.  
He frowned, thinking about the young lives lost. He couldn't bring himself to be present when the bodies were being taken care of. He had made sure they were dealt with carefully and had someone contacting all of their families so that they could be shipped home for burial.  
Dilandau would probably want to see them.  
Solemnly he stood in the open hangar, not flinching as the cold wind whipped his dark cloak into his face. He heard the dull roar of Alseid engines approaching and watched calmly as five blue Alseides docked single file.  
The hatches opened simultaneously and Gatty and Shesta were the first out, fencing in Dilandau as he climbed out third. Both blonds looked fierce and protective. Guimel and Viole slid out of their units next, placing themselves at Dilandau's back.  
Dilandau was rolling his eyes and pushing through his personal guard. "It's only Folken."  
Well, that made Folken feel special.  
"Hello, Dilandau," Folken walked to meet the boy.  
"Folken," Dilandau nodded at him calmly, though his eyes betrayed his agitation. He turned his head to stare at the shiny new Alseides. "They're...silver."  
Nothing escaped that one, Folken thought to himself. "I figured you would want to be able to tell your Alseides from the enemy's. Do not worry; your Oreades has a red seal across its chest and on its wrists to distinguish it from the rest."  
Dilandau whipped his head back to Folken, narrowing his eyes slightly, a confused frown on his lips. "Folken... You're still giving them to us?"  
"I made them for you," Folken said with an elegant shrug. "Why shouldn't I give them to you?"  
"Because you know what I'll use them to do," Dilandau said softly, his magenta eyes searching Folken's for the answer to a question he hadn't asked aloud.  
"They're all dead."  
Folken nodded, confirming Dilandau's statement.  
Dilandau shut his eyes for a moment and let out a deep sigh. "Were they...?"  
"They all died in battle; they didn't suffer. Their families are being notified, and their bodies will be delivered to them with the utmost care."  
"Will they be decorated? They were Specials; they should have ribbons, badges of honor..."  
Folken had anticipated as much and raised a hand to silence Dilandau. "It's all being taken care of, Dilandau. Now come; I'd like to keep this visit as short as possible, and there is much that needs to be done."  
Dilandau blinked, looking at bit dazed at Folken taking total control of the situation and if Folken was not mistaken, maybe even a little... grateful?  
Folken placed a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, feeling the slight tremors running throughout his body. Pulling him a little closer and squeezing a bit when Dilandau leaned into him slightly, Folken began to walk.  
"How are you feeling, Dilandau? Have there been any problems?"  
Dilandau shook his head. "I don't think so."  
Folken raised a brow. "You don't think so?"  
"Folken, I feel like shit; I've felt like shit for weeks; just what kind of problems are you looking for me to tell you about?" Dilandau growled. "Everything hurts; I'm tired, and my freakin' Slayers are dead. Leave me alone about it."  
All the while Dilandau growled and snarled, Folken noticed Dilandau didn't fight to remove himself from his casual embrace. "Marie is waiting for us in the clinic."  
Folken turned his head to look at the 5 men walking behind them, "Go pack the things you will need for yourselves and your captain and come back to the flight deck."  
The 5 boys behind him hesitated at his orders and didn't move until Dilandau said it was alright.  
Walking down the corridor alone, Dilandau gazed up at him, his eyes glittering. "Folken, why are you helping me? If you let me go, I'm going to do everything in my power to ruin Zaibach and its mission, your mission. You should turn me in. Why did you risk everything for me? Why are you doing it again now?"  
Folken almost chuckled. "You came here knowing that I would help you, Dilandau. Why did you think that? Perhaps the answer to that question will answer your own."  
Dilandau's brows furrowed. "But your mission?"  
"Is not as important as it once was to me. I will strive to make it come to pass, but I will not have the ones I care about hurt in the process, not anymore."  
Not you, not Van.  
"Does that mean no more dragon hunting for you?"  
"Yes."  
Dilandau was quiet until they reached the clinic. "Folken?"  
"Hm?"  
"Thank you."  
"For caring about you?"  
"For taking care of my Dragonslayers."  
"Oh."  
"And for taking care of me."  
Folken actually smiled then and remembered something Marie had said earlier. "I'm expecting something special from you next holiday."  
Folken patted the boy on the back, chuckling lightly as he sputtered.

* * *

Viole frowned at Miguel's things, pondering over what his partner would want. Armor and sword were givens, but what clothing would he want? Miguel wasn't a clothes horse or anything, but he did take pride in what he wore. Hmm..  
He probably wouldn't appreciate the "Village Idiot," shirt Viole had bought for him on their last leave. Come to think about it, Viole hadn't seen that shirt since he'd presented it to him. He selected a few silk shirts he had often seen Miguel wear and two pairs of dark cottony pants.  
He didn't know if Miguel preferred certain undergarments better than others, so he just reached into the drawer and grabbed some at random.  
Maybe he'd grabbed some with pink hearts.  
One could only dream. That would be a freakin' riot.  
He folded Miguel's items and tucked them inside the leather traveling pack with his own, then flopped back onto his bed with the bag resting on his chest to stare at the metal ceiling.  
All dead.  
Refina, Biore, Ryuuon, Tristan, Sergio, Andre, Brian, Kwami, and Kieran were gone... like Anwar.  
Anwar had been a mean bastard, but he was still a teammate and Viole had been near devastated when he'd died. He had never been exposed to death before that. He knew he would eventually have to deal with it, being a soldier and all, but... Well, he guessed he'd never thought about comrade deaths before. Dying was for old people and people not associated with Viole.  
It amazed and shocked him at the same time that he was dealing with nine more comrade deaths so well. Yeah, he'd prepared himself for it. He had known not all of his friends had survived the ordeal the day they had left, but finding out they were all dead...  
Woa.  
He couldn't fall apart, not after that spiel he'd given to Guimel and Dallet about the others only doing a job well done.  
He shut his eyes on the hot, salty tears that wanted to escape. Were they tears of pain or tears of guilt? He couldn't decide.  
They were of pain when he thought of the people he'd never be able to tease again; they were of guilt when he thought: Good thing I'm an Elite officer or I would have been left behind to die with them.  
He was an awful person, and he should be damned to one of the nine hells Dallet had mentioned.  
He was just about to let his tense muscles relax on the soft bed, when someone entered. "Viole?"  
Viole pushed the bag from his chest so he could view Gatty standing in the doorway without sitting up. "Time to go?"  
Gatty shook his head slowly. His head was slightly bowed and strands of unkempt blond hair fell into his red rimmed blue eyes. He'd been crying.  
"Gatty?"  
"Um... I thought you could help Shesta sort out the things Lord Dilandau might want. We've already got his armor and weapons ready, but he doesn't have many personal items. I just don't know what he would choose to take with him, and I..."  
Viole stared. "You need a little time to yourself?"  
Gatty covered his eyes with one hand and nodded. "Please?"  
"Ok," Viole sat up with a grunt. He was getting old before his time. He slid past Gatty in the doorway, touching his shoulder lightly as he left.  
Poor guy.  
The door to Lord Dilandau's room was open and Shesta stood in front of Lord Dilandau's closet, rubbing his chin and fingering the clothing inside. He didn't turn his head at Viole's entrance. "He has so many clothes. No pictures, no childhood mementos, no trinkets, just clothes. No wonder why people think he's so vain. I bet he wouldn't even care what clothes I packed for him as long as they were warm. He's always so cold."  
"Shesta?"  
"He's got some things under his bed, Viole. Can you look through them and decide if he might like to keep any of it?" Shesta waved a hand, shooing Viole away from him.  
Viole blinked. "Sure, Shes. I can do that."  
"Thanks," Shesta murmured. He pulled down a blue jewel-toned shirt with long sleeves and tossed it behind him into an open satchel. "I never realized he was so small. You know... Lord Dilandau? I always thought... cause he's so strong... but then he wore all that armor all the time... I just never noticed he was so thin. I couldn't fit one leg into most of these pants, and the shirts, please!"  
Shesta was rambling. Shesta never rambled. Everyone usually left that chore up to Viole.  
Viole scrounged around under Lord Dilandau's bed, crawling under halfway and grabbing at the first thing that brushed against his fingers. It was a small box. Viole pulled it out and carefully used his short thumbnail to break the adhesive bond in the central crevice that sealed the box shut.  
Shesta was still talking.  
If it made Shesta feel better to talk, Viole was going to let him. Though Shesta's warbling was undoubtably the reason why Gatty had left. He probably hadn't been able to take it.  
Viole blinked in surprise at what he found in the box. Three leather bound books greeted him cheerfully. He pulled them out, reading their worn covers. The Adventures of Captain Jack Sparrow, A Feudal Fairy Tale, and The Last Herald Mage? These were Lord Dilandau's books?  
He flipped open The Adventures of Captain Jack Sparrow to find the pages well worn and dog-eared with many notations in the margins in Lord Dilandau's handwriting. Viole couldn't help but chuckle a bit, drawing Shesta's attention.  
"What do you have there?" Shesta asked softly. He nudged the bag of clothes he was packing with his foot over to where Viole sat and took a seat himself to look over his shoulder. "Books?"  
"Lord Dilandau's," Viole smiled gently. "He's read this one so many times you can practically see his fingerprints on the pages. Do you think these will fit in the bag?"  
"I'm sure we can make room for them," Shesta whispered, taking the books from Viole and setting them beside the bag. He began pulling the clothes out and folding them neatly.  
Viole stared at the his comrade for a moment, noting his dry eyes. He pouted to himself as he wormed his way back under the bed. Gatty had tears and Shesta didn't. It was strange, because Viole had always thought of Shesta as the sensitive one. But then... he only thought that because Shesta looked so innocent.  
Perhaps Gatty was the sensitive one.  
His hands rubbed against something thin and leathery. He grabbed and pulled, scooting himself back from underneath the bed.  
"What's that?" Shesta asked.  
Viole ran his hand over the soft fabric of the folder he'd pulled into his lap to remove the dust. It looked like a portfolio, but Viole couldn't be sure until he opened it. He carefully undid the crusty plastic snaps and flipped open the cover.  
Both he and Shesta gaped at the drawings inside.  
"What is this place?" Shesta asked as they gazed at a charcoal sketch of a small cabin shadowed by trees in a wintery countryside. The place looked so dark and cold it made Viole shiver.  
"I don't know..." they flipped to the next drawing.  
A baby deer sleeping in tall grass.  
A dreary castle.  
Pirates sword-fighting on a plank above a circle of sharks.  
A woman suiting up for battle.  
"I knew he was good, but not this good," Viole murmured and Shesta tore his eyes away from the drawing to question him.  
"Lord Dilandau," Viole said simply. Then had an idea. "Hey Shes, do you think he'd want all those maps we redid? The ones we finished looked really good."  
"What would he want with a bunch of maps of a country we hate?" Shesta asked vehemently. "He would burn them if he saw them."  
Shesta closed the portfolio in Viole's lap. "I think we should pack his drawings. They're too good to be left here."  
Viole sealed the folder back up and frowned at Shesta as he struggled to cram the books into Lord Dilandau's bag.  
"Shes... it's ok. I'll do the rest, if you're through packing his clothes," Viole said, nudging Shesta gently with his knee.  
Shesta jumped and stared wide eyed at Viole. "Viole... what are we gonna do? I thought... I hoped... Why couldn't just one of them be alive? We came all this way; I was so sure we'd be able to help at least one of them. We can't just leave it like this, Viole. We have to do something, but what can we do with only seven men? Nine of our men couldn't stand up to them. What the hell are we gonna do?"  
Viole sighed, setting the portfolio aside and wrapping his arms around Shesta tightly as the blond's shoulders began to shake with quiet sobs.  
"Gods... we helped train most of them. We didn't train them well enough. We didn't teach them everything they needed to know. Lord Dilandau trusted us... We screwed up..."  
"Shesta, no one could have lived through that assault unless the soldiers wanted to give mercy, which they didn't. The soldiers aboard this ship hate us. They would use any excuse to be rid of us, Shes. It's not your fault; it's not any of our fault."  
Gods, he was really breaking down. Dammit Gatty! You could  
have warned me! "Shes, please it's ok. You're scaring me here."  
"S...sorry," Shesta breathed, "I.... I thought I'd be ok.... I can't..."  
Holy shit. He needed to get someone else, but he didn't want to leave Shesta alone either. Ok, so deal, Viole.  
You're all alone, so deal.  
He lowered his head into Shesta's hair, which was a little dry from washing it with the soap they had in the village, and rubbed his back. "Everything is going to be just fine. Lord Dilandau will figure everything out and decide what we're going to do. He won't let this go, and Lord Folken will help us."  
Shesta was about to start hyperventilating.  
"Shesta?"  
Viole started at Lord Dilandau's voice. He turned his head to glimpse his captain entering the room with Gatty and Guimel in tow. Viole breathed a sigh of relief. Gatty sat himself down on the floor behind Shesta and wrapped his arms around both Shesta and Viole. Resting his head on Shesta's shoulder, he murmured "Sorry," to Viole.  
Yeah, sure, Viole rolled his eyes, but it was unseen from the rough nest of Shesta's hair. Another body kneeled down beside him, Lord Dilandau was staring at the portfolio Viole had pushed off his lap so that Shesta could climb in.  
He frowned at the look on Lord Dilandau's face as he opened it and thumbed through the drawings. What was he thinking about?  
"Is he ok?" Guimel asked. He was leaning against a dresser, far away from his crying comrade, looking very uncomfortable.  
"No idiot!" Gatty snapped. "Don't just stand there staring at us. Be useful; help Lord Dilandau with his things."  
Instead of ruffling at Gatty's sharp tone, Guimel nodded and cautiously made his way toward them to kneel beside Lord Dilandau.  
"Did you do these?"  
Viole didn't hear a reply, but was certain Lord Dilandau had nodded affirmatively.  
"We should take them-- if you want them. Are there any more?"  
Were there? Viole would like to see them.  
"The maps," Lord Dilandau said.  
"Maps? You mean the ones you did when... Why would you want those? They're just outlines of... Zaibach territory...." Guimel spoke slowly as he seemed to realize something... amazing?  
Viole stilled, wanting to hear just what Guimel thought he'd stumbled upon and Lord Dilandau's response to it. Shesta's sobs were quieting and he wasn't shaking quite so hard in Viole and Gatty's hold. Gatty raised his head slightly from Shesta's shoulder to peer at Guimel and Lord Dilandau.  
"What is it?" Viole had to ask, when Guimel and Lord Dilandau didn't begin talking right away.  
"Viole, those maps we worked so hard is the updated information of provinces and military compounds. We have detailed documents of every important complex in Zaibach," Lord Dilandau said, his voice full of quiet excitement.  
Viole could have smacked himself. By the gods– he'd spent nights researching and drawing that stuff and had never realized just what he'd held in his hands.  
"All those bases, all those weapons..."  
"And with the new communications systems and the new Alseides..."  
"We can destroy them from the inside," Shesta pushed Viole and Gatty away. "We can annihilate them, and they won't even know what hit them! We can hurt them back!"  
Shesta's blue eyes shone with determination. He shakily wiped the tears from his eyes and ran both hands through his hair. "We're going to get them right? Tell me we're going to get them?"  
All eyes turned to Lord Dilandau who sat with one pale hand on a drawing, stroking the tiny face of the sleeping lamb. The eyes that lifted to meet theirs were haunted but clear.  
"I put the maps in the library. Viole, come with me to gather them."

* * *

Author's Note: So there it is. What's the verdict? Is it ok enough for me to move on, or would you like for me to work on it a bit more? Let me know. Please be kind and review! Now on to the important junk...  
  
Reviewer Responses:  
  
Pocketfirefairy: Lol! Sorry this story isn't finished! I know what a bummer it is to be reading a story you really like and to find out it's not done and that the author hasn't updated in months. You would think since I know the feeling, I would remedy that by updating more frequently, but alas, inspiration comes and goes lol. Thank you for reviewing. Yes, not many people write about the Dragonslayers, so it's fun to feature them because there's so much uncovered ground to tread on. It's easy to be original with em'. Well, I hope you liked this new chapter, and I will try to be more consistent with my updates in the future. Yes, I always say this...but I would like to keep my updates monthly at the least :). Take care! Inintentional Nightmare: :) Lol, no this is not a ficlet anymore. It's almost about to hit the 200 page mark. I'm happy you like all my characterizations of the Dilandau and his Slayers. Portraying characters is the best part of writing a story, and the Dilandau and the Dragonslayers are a lot of fun. Lol, and somebody finally wonders about poor Allen... All I can say is: I'm about to have a lot of fun with him to...muhahahha! Thanks for reviewing! Take care!  
  
Kaitourei: Chuckles Miguel thanks me for not killing him too, though he wishes I had done away with Viole. Thank you for your kind review. I'm glad somebody likes Valeska lol, and her first meeting with Dilandau will be fun. :) Take care, and I hope to hear from you again!  
  
Rita: For some reason when I look at Dallet, I always think: humble. I don't know if it's the hair or what, lol. I kind of just wanted to put him in the spotlight and I needed for his backgrounds to contrast greatly with what the other Slayers were used to. I'm happy you liked it though! Take care and thanks for reviewing!  
  
Kou-Kagerou: Hello Miss Proof Reader. Quite through critiquing the whole story all over again, lol? Do you know how LONG this thing is? Geez! Well, I really hoped you liked this new chapter. Getting reviews from you always makes me nervous lol. I'm like: Oh no, what's she gonna say about this one, cause I gotta tell you... I don't know about this one. Well, I trust you to tell me what's wrong and what's right with it. Hope to hear from you soon! Take care and thank you for giving me your honest opinions!  
  
Nikku: Love ya chic. Just had to say that before I begin, lol ;). He, he, he, Miguel and Viole's relationship is so fun to write. I'm always trying to come up with something new and disturbing for Viole to say to Miguel, so I can write Miguel's reaction, lol. Yes, Valeska is trouble... and she will pose a very big threat to Dilandau and his Slayers, but you'll just have to see how that plays out. Folken was in this chapter, and I hoped you liked his sections :) I'm trying to make him a more compassionate character, but I hope I'm not going over the top too much with him. Who is Valeska and will she kill Dilandau? Hmm... good questions. Big evil smile But you know I can't tell you the answers to those just yet, lol! You'll just have to see what happens yet again! Take care girlie, and thank you so much for reviewing just about every chapter of this story :).  
  
Tenshiamanda: Well here's another long chapter for you, lol. I'm so freakin' long-winded. Hope you liked this one! Take care and thanks for reviewing!  
  
Skippys Cat: You read everything in one sitting? Damn! How long did that take, lol? I don't even do that when I go back over the story to write new chapters! Do you know how long this thing is? I do, lol! Don't be ashamed for not leaving a review; I have a bad habit of doing that too. I'm glad you enjoy the interaction between Dilandau and his Slayers; they're my favorite parts to write. Well, I hope you enjoy this update. I'm not too sure about it. Sorry for taking so long with this update, and I hope you won't hold it against me lol. Thank you for reviewing and hope to hear from you again! Take care!  
  
Macky: Hello, thank you for reviewing again! Um... Naria and Eriya will be making an appearance. Merle is in the story, but she's a minor character like Hitomi. Everything is kind of happening like it did in Escaflowne with all of the original characters, but I'm concentrating more on certain characters, so other people get reduced air time lol. (And there's also the minor fact that Merle and Hitomi get on my nerves lol. Please don't hold that against me, if you like them ;). "Will Celena be back in the story soon?" My answer to that is: She never left it ;). Take care!  
  
Namida: Hello girlie! Calm down lol. Viole and Miguel are fun huh? Sorry they both weren't in this chapter, but there will be plenty of them in the next. Thanks for reviewing and sorry for taking so long! Take care! 


	18. Chapter 17

Author's Note: No, there is nothing wrong with me. Yes, I am updating within the month like I'm supposed to (gasp). Sigh...I hope none of you are disappointed with this chapter; I just couldn't get it to sound right. It's another one of those chapters that needs to be here, but you don't necessarily like it. I had to cover a lot of ground in the series without boring everyone to death with a moment to moment documentation of it. If I skipped around a lot in the last chapter, it's nothing compared to jumps I make in this one. After this chapter I won't have to do this anymore (Yay!) Everything can totally be my interpretation and imagination ;). Please bear with me through this trying time lol and I hope you enjoy. There is a lot of Dragonslayer interaction in this one, btw :) Reviewer responses will be at the bottom.

* * *

Chapter 17

"Viole, for the last time, I will not sleep in a room with purple walls! There will be no painting and there will be no wallpapering!" Miguel was about to rip his hair out.

"But Miguel! The walls are so boring," Viole complained. He sat himself down at the short workbench Miguel was leaning over, pondering a set of blueprints.

"There's no way you're going to be able to install indoor plumbing here, Miguel. You'll have to dig and plant pipes and all sorts of stuff you don't know how to do."

"Shut up Viole!" Miguel erupted, crumpling up the blueprints and tossing the useless paper into the air. He moaned and plopped onto his rear on the workbench.

So they had decided to remain in Dallet's village and make it their base of operations. It seemed like a good idea; the area was secluded and there was no reason in the world for anyone important to wander through.

The villagers were enthralled with the idea, the women especially. Miguel shuddered at that. Over the weeks, the village had come to see them as some sort of governing body. Mayor Pointellier would come to Lord Dilandau to ask his opinion on decisions and they all felt it was the least they could do to offer protection to the city while they were there.

Miguel and Gatty were even teaching classes on self defense and fencing. Some of their students had much promise to be decent soldiers.

"Hey Miguel?" Viole asked and Miguel jumped.

The other boy had been so unusually quiet Miguel had forgotten he was there. Well, maybe 'unusually quiet' wasn't quite the right way to put it anymore. Being quiet was oddly enough becoming pretty common for Viole. It bothered Miguel a bit, but he'd never admit to it.

"What is it?"

"Do you... did you feel weird last night, when we burned Fortress Foxglove? I mean, did it feel wrong to you?" Viole's head was bent and his long wavy hair curtained his eyes so Miguel couldn't see them.

"Wrong how?" Miguel pressed.

"Well, we've been there training before. There were some soldiers in there that were probably just like us, just starting. They couldn't have had anything to do with...the others."

Miguel sighed. Last night had marked the third success of their search and destroy missions in Zaibach. So far they'd taken out a floating fortress, a weapons keep, and a ground base. Lots of people had died, some good, some bad.

He felt a small amount of sadness for the innocents who had to die along with the guilty, but that was how war went. Nothing said it was right, but it didn't quite cross the line of being wrong in the eyes of the military.

This was about revenge.

"Viole, I don't know what you want me to say. For me, it didn't feel wrong at all. I even felt a little satisfaction," Miguel spoke slowly, wanting Viole to raise his head so he could see what was going on behind his blue eyes.

"The three places we've destroyed were important strongholds to Zaibach. We've hurt them, and we're going to keep on hurting them. For every man of ours they killed, we take down one crucial location. Don't think of those places as fortresses with unnamed soldiers aboard, think of them as our comrades. That first fortress was for Andre. I saw his face when we were in there planting explosives. That weapons keep, that was Sergio. Fort Foxglove, that was Brian."

Viole brought his head up then, his eyes boring into Miguel's. "Miguel, I..."

"What?" Miguel leaned in.

"I liked it. I liked destroying those bases. I thought about all those people dying, and I didn't care! All I could think about was getting Zaibach back. I saw red. I feel like some sort of a monster, because I know I'm supposed to care, but I don't. Miguel, what's wrong with me?"

Miguel blinked. Well he hadn't been expecting that. "Viole, for you to be asking me now, looking so upset, lets me know that you do care, but your loyalty is to your team. Nothing's going to hurt you as much as losing them, so any other pain is trivial. Maybe you don't hurt for Zaibach, because they don't hurt for us. They don't care what they've done."

"But Zaibach isn't a 'they!' There are plenty of people in it just as clueless as we were! I should be upset over the prospects of maybe having to kill them to get to the bastards. In a way, we're no better than the soldiers on the Vione. They were willing to kill us, kill them, to get to Lord Dilandau. We just keep going back and forth. Who's right, who's not, and why don't I freakin' care?"

Miguel scowled slightly and wiped sweaty hands on his pants before placing them on Viole's bare shoulders. Letting his head fall forward so that they were forehead to forehead, he said, "Viole, you are not a bad person. Stop trying to make yourself into one. If you're bad then so am I, and so is Shesta, and Gatty, and Guimel, and Dallet, and Lord Dilandau. We just want... Viole, I want to stop feeling like I've failed them. I want to stop my own pain, and every time one of those places that Zaibach found so important goes down...I feel better. It's like one of them goes to rest and I sleep a little easier. Is that how you feel?"

Viole gave a small nod, his mouth still set in a frown.

"You're not a bad person for that. None of us are. Zaibach is a threat to the world and by helping to eliminate it, we're not only helping Gaea and avenging our friends' deaths, but we're redeeming ourselves for ever helping Zaibach in the first place. They need to be stopped, and the soldiers on their side are casualties of war, just like our friends are. They die for what they believe is right- and believe me, their friends will probably try to avenge them too and come after us. Like you said, it keeps going. So how do you decide who is wrong? Who started it? Why did they start it?"

Miguel shrugged. "Do you really want to know all of those answers? Do you care? Does it matter? Not really. Not to me anyway. As long as I feel I'm doing the job I'm supposed to, I won't feel guilty and you shouldn't either."

Viole looked away for a moment, his features still downcast. "Ok, Miguel. All right. So maybe we're no worse than anyone else, but doesn't that make you wonder about us?- About people in general? Why do we like to hurt each other?"

Miguel pulled away from Viole and released his shoulders. "So would you rather not do anything and not go after Zaibach at all?"

"No," Viole shook his head. "We have to; I have to. I've got this burning desire within me, this drive to kill..."

"Then you have your answer. It's in our nature," Miguel shrugged. "We can't fight human nature; only gods are perfect."

"And that's what the Emperor wants to be, right? A god of some sort?"

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, it seems that way."

"But people can't be gods."

"Obviously there's a way that they can be."

"But what kind of a god would the Emperor be, if he discovered how to change himself. If he'd have us go through all this just to fulfill his dreams, just how would he use all that power?"

Miguel narrowed his eyes. "We don't know, and that's why we're going to help stop him."

Viole tapped his knuckles on the wooden bench between his legs, his blue eyes strange in the way they glinted. "I think I'll feel better if I think of missions now as an effort to save the world rather than revenge. Saving the world and setting spirits free, I like that, Miguel."

Miguel snorted, but inside he thought: I like that too. But he'd be damned before he said anything like that to Viole. The boy would run it into the ground. "Miguel agreed with me."

Oi. Just when was Lord Dilandau going to get around to assigning him a new partner?

* * *

Dilandau watched in morbid fascination as Healer Sastry dribbled the beeswax into the concoction, the man's old sun wrinkled hands trembling as he held the shallow wooden bowl. The brew thickened as he began to stir the mixture carefully with a large wooden spoon.

"Just fold it in slowly," Sastry rasped, not taking his eyes off of his work.

Dilandau nodded, sitting back on his heels. Wincing a bit as the motion allowed a little blood to flow to the legs he'd been sitting on for over an hour.

He and Shesta were learning how to make soothing salves, medical ointments, and burn creams. Every morning after breakfast, they would come out to Healer Sastry's little shack and sit under the shade of a large tree until lunch, learning everything Sastry was willing to teach them.

"Careful not to let it get too hot or it will come out to be too thick," Sastry adjusted the tiny fire beneath the small cauldron. "But if you don't heat it enough, it will be soupy."

Dilandau wanted to groan in frustration at the instructions. He wasn't used to such informal commands. Too hot, too cold... but the man didn't give any specific temperatures for what was too hot or what was too cold. Shesta was nodding along like he understood it all, so Dilandau would let him handle the concocting.

"And then you remove it from the fire and let it cool."

"Lord Dilandau, are you paying attention?" Shesta whispered as Sastry took the cauldron from the fire.

"No," Dilandau whispered back, "but you better be."

They both smiled innocently when Sastry looked at them sternly.

"Lord Dilandau, you aren't being very professional," Shesta mock-scowled at him and Dilandau snorted.

"I am so. I'm delegating a task to my Second in command. You should be honored."

Shesta nearly choked trying not to laugh and Sastry cleared his throat.

"Are you boys listening to me?"

"Yes sir."

"Now I know this isn't the most interesting of lessons, but this is a delicate task any good healer should be able to do. Brewing salves is no small thing," Sastry lectured.

Dilandau tried not to roll his eyes. The old man was as annoying as he could be amusing at times, and Dilandau was sure he liked him, but not right then.

It was hard to focus on salve-making when one was in the middle of directing a personal war. Right then he was debating on whether the next move should be on Camp Joston or flying Fortress Decartes. Camp Joston was the obviously easier target to eliminate, but the loss of Fortress Decartes would be a stab in the gut to Zaibach whereas Joston was only a good foot stomping. Decartes held the majority of the Emperor's precious books and technologies for Fate Alterations...

And maybe a few Sorcerers to kill.

And maybe... maybe Celena, or at least a key to finding her.

But were they ready to take on Decartes? So far so good in their operations, but the previous sites had been easy. Fortress Foxglove and Fortress Nimue housed trainees and librarians. Zaibach figured no one would suspect that maybe something special was being kept in them for surely the Fortresses would be used for something more important than rookie training if so. Keep Bors didn't even _exist_ to anyone but top officials.

Dilandau was sure he and his Slayers were making quite the stir in Zaibach and moving on to a larger more heavily guarded target was going to be a challenge.

Folken's new toys helped them greatly; the new Alseides with their more powerful features were superb, but seven men against a large army that might even be waiting for them was pushing the limit of possible.

They were going to need more fire power, and Dilandau was dreading what he may have to suggest to get it.

"Lord Dilandau," Shesta poked him in the ribs with his sharp elbows, and Dilandau hissed. "Lesson's over."

Dilandau scowled at Shesta briefly while rubbing the sore spot on his rib cage, then he gazed at Sastry who was frowning at him.

"If you come tomorrow, I will test you on your salve-making. I hope Lord Shesta took enough notes for the both of you."

Dilandau raised both eyebrows, mouth almost falling agape at the nerve the man was displaying. How dare he....? He stopped.

Calm down.

So someone's treating you like a regular old kid not paying attention to his lessons. Good, being treated like a normal person for once is fine.

So... calm down.

He smiled for both himself and Sastry. Aloud he said, "Sorry Healer Sastry, I'm having a bit of trouble focusing today. Maybe it's the sun."

Inside he said: Good job, Dilandau.

He'd stopped an overreaction before it could happen with the simple power of thought. Granted, it was a minor reaction, and he didn't know if he could be able to calm himself down without a little help from a major reaction.

He'd taken to only injecting Folken's wonder serum hours before battle and after battle. He would take a half dose before to take the edge off the pain and still the tremors, then the rest of the dose after he'd fought brilliantly and needed something to slow his heart before it exploded.

Needless to say, his Slayers weren't very happy with him, but he wouldn't have another battle like the one when Miguel was captured. Never again.

"You'd better get home then and get inside for the rest of the afternoon then, Lord Dilandau. The sun will burn brightly today, and you do not want to fall prey to sun-sickness." Sastry looked gravely at Dilandau and took his hands to pat them gently. "You are so pale. Are you certain that..."

"I don't have a disease that makes me look this way," Dilandau grimaced a bit, slightly frustrated. How many times would he have to explain his coloration to these people? But... what did they know about genetics and crap like that? Perhaps he should have said he was enchanted. They may have understood that better.

Ai.

"Yes, milord," Sastry released his hands, "but you still best be getting home."

Shesta was already standing and pulling Dilandau up with him. "Yes, we should. Good bye and thank you for the wonderful lesson Sensei."

Dilandau nodded his head in compliance with Shesta. One "thank you," was enough.

"Were you thinking about Fort Decartes?" Shesta asked, as soon as they were on the sandy path leading through the village square, brushing the dirt from their pants as they walked.

"Of course I was," Dilandau said. "I think we should strike it next, but I'm worried about the upped security it may have."

Shesta made a "hmm" sound of agreement in his throat. "The security around Decartes will be another level from what we've seen so far, but if we hit another base, it may become almost impenetrable in preparation for attack. If we want to take it down, I think we'd better do it soon."

Shesta was thinking exactly what he was.

"I've seen the schematics of that place and know the type people they keep to man it. We need may need more soldiers that we don't have." Dilandau kicked a rock in his path and watched it sail into a small bush. A pair of angry squirrels bolted out, clearly expressing their annoyance at being disturbed.

Dilandau kicked another rock at them.

"Miguel and Gatty's students are coming along quite nicely," Shesta said softly, a hint of suggestion in his voice.

Dilandau grimaced as his stomach twisted. "I thought about that; I'm still thinking about that... but.... It's not their fight."

"But Lord Dilandau, the people here respect us so much. I'm sure they'd want to make it their fight..."

"I don't want them to make it their fight," Dilandau said.

Shesta looked as if he wanted to say something more in protest, but bit his lip and kept walking.

"I know you're probably thinking I'm being foolish, but there has to be anther way, and I want to find it before I start recruiting people to our cause who normally wouldn't care either way."

"I understand," Shesta said simply. "You know best and I will follow every decision you make."

Dilandau groaned. He hated when they spoke like that. The relationships between he and his men were changing. They were becoming more like friends, brothers, rather than commander and soldiers, but sometimes.... they still said things that reminded him that there had been a line, was still a line, between them. Old teachings said the line was good, but Dilandau didn't want it there anymore. He wanted for Shesta to feel free to say exactly what he was thinking.

"Are you all right?"

Shesta immediately interpreted the groan as a sound of distress. "We've stayed outside too long. I knew it!"

"Shesta, calm down," Dilandau rolled his eyes. "I'm fine. I feel fine. I was just thinking... Shesta, if you don't agree with my ideas, tell me. Give me reason to believe I'm making a mistake. I'm not perfect and I do err."

"Lord Dilandau, what you say is final..."

"Not anymore, Shesta," Dilandau sighed. Not when even I have to question my own judgement whenever I make a decision. "Believe it or not, I need your opinion more than anyone's now. When we get back, we will go over our battle strategy and I want everyone to insert their own opinion. This next strike has to be perfect and I want to weigh all of our options and make a group decision. I do have a strong objection to involving the citizenry, but you guys can overturn it."

Shesta blinked at him for a moment, then chuckled. He moved closer to Dilandau, throwing an arm about his shoulders casually, and Dilandau didn't jump or flinch at the gesture. He was used to them touching him now, hugging him, stroking his hair. They'd all had to get used to the contact ever since...returning from the Vione. Everyone had needed comfort and all they had was each other.

"So you want us to argue with you now?" Shesta sounded amused.

"Yes," Dilandau nodded, aware of how absurd he sounded.

"Well ok. We'll let everyone know this as soon as we get through the front door and the debate will be on," Shesta said. "I hope you really mean this, because I don't think you quite know what you're getting into."

Dilandau smirked. "I never do; that's what makes my life so interesting."

They laughed.

Be afraid, Zaibach, be very afraid.

* * *

Folken was at wits end. The Emperor had demanded that he capture the dragon at all costs or be labeled a traitor. He knew, he had to, that Folken was helping others against Zaibach, that he was letting his brother slip from his fingers on purpose. The Emperor had Naria and Eriya, his young charges, sent to him; he was dangling them over Folken's head, using them as leverage.

Both beast girls were loyal to him and only him, and if he were to die, they'd die with him. He had promised that no one else he cared about would be hurt by his decisions, so he couldn't let himself be ousted from Zaibach and hung for treason. His precious Naria and Eriya wouldn't stand for it.

So was that why he was standing over them now, pumping them full of fortune blood that would bring them impossible luck to use against his brother? He couldn't even look the girls in the eyes as he told them of the new power they would possess and how they couldn't lose.

It didn't matter what he did anymore. Everything he touched seemed to be cursed in some way. He helped Dilandau, but sacrificed Naria and Eriya; he helped Naria and Eriya, but would hurt Van in the process. He just couldn't win.

He explained to Naria and Eriya the properties of the new blood he was pushing into their veins in a flat voice, wanting to vomit at the looks of perfect love and perfect trust in their eyes as they smiled at him quietly.

His eyes slid over to Marie, who was monitoring the girls' vital signs and making notes on a clipboard. Marie caught his eyes, but offered him no return look of sympathy. Her eyes were cool and businesslike.

Marie didn't like the use of fortune blood. She didn't like the drawbacks it could have or the complications it could cause, but she couldn't argue against its use or she'd be dismissed from her high position just like that.

She felt as guilty as Folken.

Poor Naria and Eriya.

It had been little more than two weeks since their arrival, and they had seen no peace since boarding the ship. They had been sent out after Van immediately and had retreated due to reasons they wouldn't explain. Then there was Fortune Valley when they'd been driven back by forces unseen. Then there was...

Folken fought back a grimace at the last task they'd had to participate in. The Emperor had suggested a new plan to separate the dragon from its power source, the strange girl from the Mystic Moon. He'd had to use one of the girls, Eriya... and he was afraid that he'd...

He shouldn't have gone through with it. He should have used someone else, Marie maybe. Pearce could have been the subject male.

Why did he have to kiss her?

He could see it in her eyes, in both of their eyes that they wanted more from him, but...there was nothing for him to give. He was not sexually attracted to either one of them. He thought of them as surrogate children. He'd found them when they had been nothing more than babies and babies to him they would always be.

"Folken? I want to put them to sleep now so they can adjust to the changes," Marie said.

"Yes," Folken nodded. He watched as their eyes closed, smiles still on their lips, so happy to be helping him. He pulled a chair in between their beds and sat, wanting to be there when they woke again.

He'd be the one to send them back out into battle, after his brother, and this time he knew one of them was going to get hurt. He wouldn't consider who now. He would think of something else, of someone else.

Dilandau.

Dilandau was causing a major disturbance inside of Zaibach. No one could guess how the red-eyed demon had known where all of the secret bases were and just when to strike, but Folken. Dilandau had worked by his side for a few weeks while he'd been recovering. He'd had access to every file Folken had and had helped make some of the plans he was now undoing.

He was very proud of Dilandau, but also very worried. Sooner or later, Zaibach was going to catch up to him and Folken knew what the outcome of that would be, but at least he knew Dilandau would die happy. His death would have been meaningful.

Folken wanted his death to be meaningful...

Gods, he was so morbid lately.

He sighed and took the hands of Naria and Eriya, holding them as they slept peacefully.

Marie was leaving, but turned before she reached the door. "Folken, are you all right? You look awful."

Folken stared at her, eyes dull. "I am awful. I'll stay here with them for the night, Marie, you don't have to look in on them."

"Will you send them to Astoria in the morning?"

"Yes. Yes I will."

Marie nodded, then left, closing the door silently behind her.

And if anything happens to them... Folken shut his eyes. If anything happens to any of them...

I don't know.

He just didn't know, not anymore. He couldn't remember the last time the path of life stretched out before him had been clear, if it had ever been. He squeezed the hands of his girls.

They counted on him to know everything, to be everything... they all did, but he wasn't, and he didn't have the heart to tell them.

He felt he had no heart at all. A single tear slipped down his cheek and he didn't bother to wipe it away.

* * *

"Would you listen to this girl go?" Guimel was chuckling, elbowing Dallet who was hard at work welding a flat blue box onto the leg of the Alseid they were both sitting on.

"She's a total bitch. Can't believe Adelphos would use her to replace us," Dallet snorted. "Lord Dilandau was no picnic for him either, but at least he accepted the missions he gave him."

"I think she's scared. You can hear it in her voice; she's scared of the dragon. Old King Van did something to scare the shit out of her," Viole called from the cockpit above them where the pirated transmission of the new Zaibach captain- Valeska's- conversation with one of General Adelphos's subordinates played out.

"I think the other guy hears it too," Dallet said. "There." He patted the blue box he'd just installed. "All done. All systems still look ok in there, Viole?"

"Looking good, Dallet. When did you get to be so handy? You never fixed anything on the Vione," Viole sounded occupied as his attention was divided between holding conversation with his friends and checking out the panels on the Alseid.

Dallet shrugged. "There was never a reason to fix anything on the Vione. I was always handy. As soon as I got out of this dump, I wanted to learn all I could about technology being that I'd never seen any before."

"Understandable," Guimel said. "But really, Dallet. This place isn't the hell hole you- and Miguel- make it out to be sometimes."

"Speaking of Miguel," Viole laughed. "Did you see his face this morning when he had to use the bath house after Mr. and Mrs. Bouillon and the baby?"

Guimel nearly fell over laughing. "I thought he was gonna faint. Gods, how do those people get so filthy. It's like they attract dirt."

"Poor Miguel, he thought he had finally gotten up early enough to beat everyone to the bath so he could have it when the water was fresh."

Dallet shook his head. "There really should be running water in town."

Guimel shrugged. "It's not killing us to get our own water, Dallet."

"No, but still..." Dallet sighed. "All right, Viole, turn the system on and lets see if it works."

"Yes sir," Viole said. They all turned their attention to the new silver model that was parked in front of the old blue Alseid they sat on. "Power on... controls on... Now...dance!"

The silver mecha before them rose from its crouch and began to stretch its limbs.

"All right Dallet!" Guimel slapped Dallet on the back as Dallet beamed at the success. "Now you've only got 4 more to do!"

Dallet sneered at Guimel for a moment, then turned back to watching his project in action.

After an interesting debate on what the next move of the anti-Zaibach strike force should be, they'd all decided they should take down Fort Decartes. The only problem was their lack of numbers. Lord Dilandau, Gatty, Viole, Guimel, and Dallet himself had been against Miguel and Shesta in involving the town, and together they had brain-stormed an alternative to giving off the illusion of having a good sized army behind them.

It was Viole who had actually come up with the idea of using the remote systems on the new Alseides. If they could figure out a way to connect the new systems to the old models then 5 of them could pilot the old Alseides manually while controlling five of the new models from the outside. That would give them five more able bodies on the field, and since their methods were strictly reserved for infiltration the plan would pan out perfectly. The new models had more raw power and more resilience than the old and could be used for giving excellent cover fire, while the smaller, quieter blue models could get in and out of a building faster. If they needed to leave their cockpits they would never have to worry about finding their models for they could call them to them at any time anywhere with a bigger guymelef flying cover.

Why hadn't anyone thought of it before?

"She just told Adelphos to screw himself and his leviship too!" Viole crowed.

"That Valeska's got nerve. Wonder who they'll get to go after the dragon now?" Guimel asked.

"I think they mentioned something about Folken's girls... you know the cats," Viole said off-handedly. "This Valeska chic's getting a new mission. They're receiving the message from Adelphos himself now. Can't wait to hear what he's got to say about screwing himself."

"Well you're going to have to. Come on, we gotta do the other Alseides. Turn that off and get down. These things gotta be ready by tonight."

"Right..." Viole drawled, turning off the transmission before Adelphos could come on the line. He climbed out of the cockpit and jumped onto the leg beside Guimel and Dallet. "So...you guys think this is gonna go ok? I mean, it's a weird plan...and I came up with it."

"It is a weird plan," Dallet agreed. "But...I think it's an innovative tactic that's going to put us on Zaibach's list of people to kill."

Guimel snorted. "With any luck, that Valeska's new assignment will be to come after us."

"Hah! Then we'll really know we've made it big, huh? Lord Valeska after our asses. Maybe we'd better call up His Majesty Fanel and ask what he did to scare her off his tail," Viole snickered.

"Hey, whatever that freak did, Lord Dilandau can do better. Let her come, we'll be ready."

Chuckling, they climbed down from the updated mecha and over to the next.

* * *

Valeska was in a bad mood. She sat in her room, guzzling vino straight from the bottle and throwing the occasional small dagger at the large portrait of Emperor Dumbshit... er... Dornkirk.

Right in the eye.

She snorted and tossed the vino bottle after the dagger, laughing as is smashed and dribbled the red wine all over the Emperor's tunic.

Screw him. Find the dragon... find the dragon your own damn self. Valeska wasn't messing with that thing ever again. The guy manning the dragon guymelef was some sort of a demon that Valeska was not crazy enough to fight twice.

He'd gotten her down; he could have killed her, but he hadn't. She had gotten the order to retreat and she'd taken it. She had run.

Gods, her men had sen her run.

It had taken her days to beat the respect back into their eyes and voices and thoughts.

Gods, she had run.

She was scared of the dragon, scared of Van Fanel. She jumped up from her chair and kicked it over angrily! Dammit, just thinking his name made her stomach churn in dismay. Gods...she hated feeling like a....like a coward.

Was that bastard Albatou afraid of Fanel?

That was probably why he hadn't caught him; he was scared of the demon.

Bullshit. Albatou wasn't scared of Fanel.

Valeska fell to her knees and slammed her fists into the floor over and over again, her blond curls coming free of their bun and falling into her face. She was incompetent, incompetent! She had failed her mission. Weeks after it happened, she was still stewing in the juices of defeat.

The events of the battle played out in her head again. She had been doing great. Everyone who had the misfortune of stumbling into her path had been destroyed. Her crima claws had been drenched with blood. Then Allen Schezar had showed up.

Her blood boiled.

Allen Schezar. The name dredged up feelings from deep inside of her, old feelings that she didn't understand. She had never heard of Schezar until that moment on the battlefield or so she had thought.

She wished she had gotten to kill him, then maybe all the emotions he had brought would have died with him.

She shut her eyes, willing her anger away, willing her confusion away. It was time for rationality. It was time to think.

She couldn't catch the dragon, refused to go after it again, Zaibach had taken Freid, the Strategos did not want her presence on his ship, and Adelphos hated her. Where would she go from here? What would her next mission be- if there was to be one? She hadn't had a summons, other than to argue with Adelphos over her not going back out after the dragon, since Freid.

The Sorcerers were going to come and collect her.

She was a flop. She wasn't better than Dilandau at all and they had known it; everyone had known it.

Someone knocked on her door and she screamed at them to go away.

They knocked again and she looked for her sword, finding it laying partially under the bed she drew it and stalked to the door. She threw it open and stood, purple eyes blazing, sword against the messengers throat.

"What part of 'Get lost,' don't you understand?" Valeska snarled in the man's pale face.

"Gen...General Adelphos h...has requested your presence."

"Oh...has he now?"

Is he going to tell me how long I have until the Madoushi come to get me? Bet he's happy as hell to be getting rid of me.

"He...he...has a new assignment for you."

Valeska lowered her sword. "An assignment, hmm? What kind of an assignment?"

"I'm not exactly sure, but I think it has something to do with all of the attacks on the fortresses and keeps by the Zaibach traitors."

Valeska tossed her head and narrowed her eyes. "What attacks?"

The messenger looked surprised. "You...don't know, sir?"

Valeska hadn't exactly been too keen on keeping up with news of the world outside of her misery. "Enlighten me."

"Dilandau Albatou and his men are destroying important facilities."

Valeska felt a slow smile creeping over her face as her previous shame and fear were bridged over by excitement. "And he wants me to go after him. He wants me to take out Albatou?"

"I believe so, yes."

Valeska dropped her sword onto the ground with a clatter. "Well in that case, tell him the General I'll be there in a few minutes. I need to freshen up."

"Yes...sir," the messenger backed out of the door way as Valeska kicked it closed with her foot.

Well. She stepped over her sword and moved to stand in front of her vanity mirror, staring at her smug reflection.

Looked like the pity part was over. There were no more worries of being sent back to the Madoushi, no more fear of having to face Van Fanel, and no more thoughts of Allen Schezar.

She was going to get a chance to fight Dilandau Albatou.

She was going to bring him down for Zaibach, in front of Zaibach, and redeem herself.

Life was good again.

Look out, Dilandau; Valeska's coming to get you.

* * *

Failed. The fortune blood hadn't helped Naria and Eriya at all in their mission to capture the dragon. It had only succeeded in bringing Eriya back in terrible shape and leaving Naria stranded, maybe dead. He'd predicted as much; he'd known something bad would happen, as it always did when things were left in his control.

Folken was emotionless as the Vione was invaded and destroyed from the inside by the Escaflowne. Van hadn't been hurt at all by any of Naria and Eriya's valiant attempts, instead they had to find out the hard way that luck was two-sided. Good and bad.

He didn't attempt to move out of the way of his brother's destructive rage. Kill me, Van, he thought. Then I can stop ruining things.

The heavy sword of the Escaflowne was raised high over its head and Folken stood tall without flinching as it was brought down at full speed. He kept his eyes open, wanting to see his fate, wanting to see his death, and blinked as something knocked that fate away from him.

Escaflowne was knocked onto its side and slide across the room with a high pitch metal screech as its armor tore the floors of the Vione. Eriya's guymelef landed and Naria leapt from its hand, landing on shaky knees.

Naria...she was still alive, but she looked so... old?

Gods, she was dying.

Look at what he'd done to her, and she was still trying to protect him?

"Lord Folken, leave him to us. Get back!" Naria stood in front of him, as if shielding him from Van, who was clambering to his feet in the white dragon.

"What's the matter with you?" Eriya was demanding of Van from her guymelef, furious voice echoing through the helm. "Why can't you see that Lord Folken cares about you?"

Folken felt like a hand had reached into his chest and was squeezing his heart. "Eriya..." he murmured.

"I won't let anyone hurt Lord Folken! Ever!" Eriya tried to charge forward in her guymelef, but something happened.

The Escaflowne's energist gave a strange flash and suddenly things were exploding. Left and right flames were erupting from machines, soaring high into the air and the glass of the windows all around was shattering. The engines of the massive airship were screaming and everything was being thrown violently to and fro.

My gods... Naria and Eriya... Van... Pearce and Marie... they were all going to die here if they didn't get off!

"Lord Folken!" Naria draped her weakened body over his, protecting him from falling debris.

Folken pushed her away; he needed to see. Van? Van was gone; the Escaflowne had taken him away from there. Good.

Eriya, she was coming out of her guymelef and falling down beside he and Naria.

"Folken!" Marie.

"Lord Folken!" Pearce.

Folken wrapped his arms around Naria and Eriya's trembling forms. "We have to get out of here," he said to them, to all of them.

"I've got a small ship waiting, Lord Folken. I can carry one of them if you take the other," Pearce was saying, already taking Eriya's prone form from him.

Folken looked at the blond man gratefully and rose with Naria. Marie was looking dubiously at both beast girls, but did little more than shake her head. "We have to hurry!"

They ran to the docks and boarded the ship, Folken putting Naria in the soft chair beside Eriya gently. He took the chair behind them and slumped in his chair as Pearce detached the ship from the dock.

They were soon airborne, free of the crashing Vione. Folken watched at his ship fell into the ocean, the water slow to douse the massive flames devouring its body. He watched it sink along with all of his faith in Zaibach and his dedication to its cause. He shrugged off the dark cloak he wore, renouncing his former title.

He was Strategos of Zaibach no longer.

He hadn't been for a while; he had only been too late in realizing that fact.

Marie had two fingers pressed against Naria's neck, her face stony as her sad eyes met his. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Folken."

Gods.

"I'm so very sorry."

I'm sorry too, Marie, but I'm going to make it right.

"We'll help you in any way we can, sir," Pearce said, responding to Folken's thought as if he had voiced it aloud.

"You don't have to..."

"We want to," Marie hadn't released his eyes. "We're in this together. Remember, we're all accomplices and any one of us could be tried for treason in Zaibach. We're a team and you're our boss."

Folken didn't want to be boss.

"What do you want to do now?"

Folken sighed, rubbing his temples and fighting the tears of loss that wanted to flood his face. "I want..."

He wanted...

His brother.

"...to stop the Emperor. His plans...what he wants, is not right. We'll join Astoria, we'll join my brother. The Emperor and all of his experiments and machines have to be destroyed and I know how to do it."

"So set down in Astoria?" Pearce asked, raising an eyebrow. "The natives aren't likely to be too friendly toward us."

"No," Folken agreed. "They won't be. We set down in Fanelia... I need to talk to my brother alone first, and Fanelia will be the correct place to do it."

"Yes sir," Pearce said.

Marie was closing Naria and Eriya's eyes with her fingers. She looked at Folken with a light smile. "I'm proud of you... sir."

Folken didn't return her smile, instead he reached forward to stroke Eriya's golden hair.

"Maybe we'll run into Dilandau on our way," Marie said thoughtfully.

"And what will I say to him?"

"How about 'hi?'"

Folken chuckled. Hi. He leaned his face into Naria's hair, marveling in its softness. He wondered if 'hi,' would work on Van.

He doubted it, but he would soon find out.

* * *

Author's Note: Well there is was. Now give me your honest opinion; is this a due over or do you think it'll suffice until I get up a better chapter? Just let me know! Please review!

Reviewer Responses:

Unintentional Nightmare: If you are reading this, I am so sorry. I responded to your review and it got tacked onto the end of someone elses and I didn't notice until I had already posted. I think it's attached to the first or second response I gave, if you wanted to go back and read it :) When I do my big edit I'll fix it, promise ;).

Jhaylin: Yes, revenge is sweet lol. The boys are certainly having a lot of fun. Thank you for the review and hope to hear from you again!

DragonSteel: Lol, well aren't we curious? Lets see... Yes, Folken deserted ( hehe!) How much control does Celena have over Valeska? I'll leave that for you to decide, though I wanna tell you Celena and Valeska may not be as different as some may want to believe. What happens when Dilandau and Celena meet? You'll find out next chapter. Thanks for reviewing!

Kou-Kagerou: Hello again, my friend. It is now for you to pass judgement on yet another chapter. Gah... I promise I'll have something better for next time lol. I was trying to make a monthly and I hate writing necessary chapters... sigh. I still didn't really explain the remote system they used to bring those other Alseides back. I'll just have to fix it when I do my massive edit when the story is complete. Thanks for all the looking out and the great reviews and e-mails chic. I hope I get to talk to ya soon!

Skippys Cat: Six or seven hours! You're going to kill your eyes...and a small forests....224 pages! Ouch! Lol I must admit that I like writing the scenes between Dilandau and his Dragonslayers too much. I have pages and pages of conversations that I have to delete because they make the chapters too long and they're usually just being silly anyway. I had to talk two huge chunks of conversation out of this chapter. Horseplay is fun...but alas... I'm not a big Hitomi fan either, and I like Van...I'm iffy about Allen. Sometimes he amuses me other times he annoys me. Valeska is a hard character to get into, but she's kinda fun to write. I'm glad you like the story so much; I hope this chapter is ok. I'll do better next time, but I had to get past this part so I can move on to the fun stuff ;) Thanks for reviewing girl; hope to hear from you again! :)

Namida: Well here ya go, plenty of Miguel and Viole and everyone else being silly too. I hope you enjoyed them. There will be even more Miguel teasing next chapter! I kind of missed them in the last chapter too ;) Thanks for reviewing girl, and hope to hear from you again! Take care!

Macky: Hey, thanks! Lol, eh, you can go ahead and say what you suspect. I wasn't really trying to be too secretive about what's going on with Valeska/ Celena. In fact, I wasn't being secretive at all lol. Thank you for reviewing; I hope this chapter was ok for ya! Take care!

Nikku: Lookee, I updated again in a timely fashion! Cross your fingers, maybe I'll actually stick to a schedule until I'm finished with this! Aww.. So you don't like Valeska. Good, she's a villain, lol! Don't dread the confrontation between her and Dilandau though; that's gonna be fun! And in the next chapter I'm going to have a lot of fun with Van needing advice about his secret crush. Glad you liked the Slayer moments on the Vione. I hoped I wasn't pushing the limits with it. Well.... I don't know what you're going to say about this chapter, but I'd be happy to read any comments whether they be good or bad, and I promise to do better next time! Take care and thank you for always reviewing! Still love ya ;)

Tenshiamanda: I wanna read the Adventures of Captain Jack Sparrow too. I'll have to ask Dilandau to lend it to us ;) Thanks for reviewing and I hope you liked this weird chapter! Take care!

Aurebec: Thank you for the compliment. Pooh on this chapter for not being as good, lol. Yes, Viole is calming down a bit; maybe it's for the better though. It's fun making him a clown, but he does have a serious side. I'm glad you liked my Folken in the last chapter; he's a bit of a wuss in this chapter though. (Ok, he's a lot of a wuss, lol). I pulled that stuff under Dilandau's bed out of nowhere. I seriously just had Viole come in and I decided, hey why doesn't he look under the bed.... and oh hey, there's books and drawings under there! I'm glad you noticed that some of the things corresponded with the flashbacks. Poor Valeska, you don't like her, muhahaha! Good, she's a villain! (Though I usually root for the bad guys ;). Thanks for the great comments and the wonderful reviews. I hope you liked this chapter and even if you didn't you can blast me and I won't take offense lol. Oh...and yeah, I'm gonna be in school forever, and more power to you for going for the same thing! Good luck to you! Take care!


	19. Chapter 18

Author's Note: I am so sorry. Lol, I am sorry to start off my author's note like that, but I am. This chapter is 20 pages long. I suppose I could have taken out the opening scene, but it amused me too much lol. I hope you guys can bear with this chapter, and I promise to do a better job at breaking up the following chapters :). Thank you for all of your wonderful reviews! Ok... let me quit rambling. Here is Chapter 24. Oh, let me warn you that it gets a bit weird near the end because of all the perspective flips. Ok...I'll shut up now and let you read. I hope you like it. Reviewer responses are at the end!

P.S.: This is Monday's update, but wouldn't let me log in honest Nikku :)

* * *

Chapter 18

Gatty pushed the young village girl away from him with a polite smile. "No Astrid." The bubbly dark-haired girl didn't give up at that and tried to force herself into his lap again, landing a sloppy kiss on his cheek. Her lips and tongue were hot and her breath reeked of alcohol.

Gods... Where was her mother? She had to be-what?- 12?

"Astrid!" Dallet seized the girl under the arms and hauled her off Gatty before her hands could weasel their way under his shirt. "You should be ashamed of yourself! What will your mother think? Who gave you wine?"

Astrid kicked at Dallet futilely and wailed pitifully, looking to Gatty for help that wasn't coming.

"Get going!" Dallet tossed her aside, glaring at her as she lingered a bit before stumbling back to her giggling girlfriends who stood in a cluster by the fire.

The villagers were throwing a celebration in honor of Mayor Pointellier's birthday, but it seemed the guest of honor was not really the birthday boy. Everyone gravitated toward the Slayers, pouring them wine and serving them food. A large bonfire had been lit in the center of town and the people danced and swayed around it. Viole had joined in and had dragged a protesting Miguel along with him.

After a few drinks, Miguel had loosened up though and was dancing as freely as Viole. The village wine was no joke; Lord Dilandau's eyes had crossed after a single sip and he hadn't touched his mug since.

Gatty looked to Miguel who had his arms wrapped around one of the older village ladies, whirling her around to the loud folk music being played by flute, drum, and banjo. Were they ever going to have fun teasing him in the morning.

"This is nuts," Dallet said to Gatty. "I've never seen everyone so fired up."

"There has never been a celebration like this before?" Gatty asked curiously.

Dallet shook his head. "We had parties, but not like this. I guess... well, we never had anything to be happy about celebrating. The Mayor's birthday? Come on. Who cares? But... now there are war heroes."

Gatty smiled. "I don't think we're that interesting, Dallet."

Dallet rolled his eyes. "It's more interesting than tending to pigs and chasing goats. Just seeing us walk through town with our swords is excitement enough for them, so the part with us blasting off in high tech guymelefs is practically orgasmic. We're bringing down Gaea's most dreaded enemy from the comfort of their own homes and they've got front row seats."

Gatty laughed loudly. "Well, if you put it that way..." Someone topped off their mugs with more of the dark wine and Gatty grimaced. He smiled at the man who poured it and casually took his mug and watered the ground with more than half of it behind his back. After the first sip had burned the hair off his tongue and scoured his esophagus, he wisely chose not to drink anymore.

"What the hell's in this stuff?" The poor patch of grass he'd fertilized was starting to wilt.

Dallet shrugged, but Gatty noticed he hadn't drunk a drop of his brew either. "I wish Miguel and Guimel would lay off it. They're going to be sick tomorrow and we're supposed to be working on our next mission."

"Don't worry about them," Gatty said, pointing to Guimel who had been lounging, letting a gaggle of busty village girls attend to him, being rounded up by an irritated looking Shesta. Then he nodded to Miguel who was being extracted from his dance by Lord Dilandau and Viole.

"Guess that means party's over for us," Dallet chuckled.

"Think it will last much longer without us?" Gatty asked.

Dallet patted his back. "Gatty, everyone's drunk, even the kids. They'll dance until they drop long after we go to bed. Come on. I bet no one will even notice us leaving."

"She was so beautiful. You've interrupted my dance with my future mate..." Miguel was whining.

"You won't say that in the morning," Viole snorted. "Just wait until you dry up, man."

"Guys, a little help here!" Shesta was grunting under Guimel's dead weight. The curly headed boy had fallen into a deep slumber, snoring loudly as his body sagged into Shesta's, head resting on his shoulder.

Lord Dilandau and Viole blinked at the picture Shesta and Guimel made, before laughing hysterically and leading Miguel off to the room he and Viole shared.

"Hey!" Shesta called after them in outrage. "Assholes!"

"Shesta!" Gatty clambered into the house followed by Dallet, both looking thoroughly amused. "Did you just call our captain an asshole?"

"Did you see what they did?" Shesta demanded, staggering under Guimel's weight.

Gatty and Dallet guffawed loudly, letting Shesta know that they had seen.

"I'm going to go get some water; you want some Gatty?" Dallet was heading for the kitchen, smirking at Shesta.

Shesta growled and unceremoniously let Dallet's partner tumble to the floor with a loud smack. Everyone stared at the floor where Guimel laid. The fluffy-headed blond let out a loud snore and curled up like a cat around a ball of yarn.

"He's gonna feel that in the morning," Gatty remarked, stepping over Guimel and entering the kitchen after Dallet.

Shesta gave Guimel a tiny kick to see if he could rouse him. When he received no signs of consciousness from the other, he gave up. Dallet had poured five cups of water and set them on the small kitchen table.

"Five?" Gatty raised an eyebrow then "ah"'ed as Viole and Lord Dilandau came into the kitchen, going straight for the freshly filled glasses.

"What the hell was in that wine, Dallet? I tried to drink it to be nice, but gah!" Viole gulped his water down like someone dying of thirst.

Once again, Dallet shrugged. "I don't ask; no one does."

"What are we going to do with Guimel and Miguel in the morning? Something tells me they are going to be totally useless," Shesta sighed. "We shouldn't have agreed to go to the party. I knew it was a bad idea."

Lord Dilandau shook his head. "We were obligated to go. If you hadn't noticed, though the party was supposed to be for the mayor, it was really unofficially for us. I didn't see anyone serve Pointellier one damn thing, whereas I had people ready to peel fruit and feed it to me."

"You too?" Viole grinned. "Did you let them?"

Lord Dilandau made a face.

"Yeah, me either. Who knows where their hands had been?" Viole shrugged and Dallet slugged him lightly.

"You're beginning to sound more and more like Miguel."

Viole's eyes widened. "Moi?"

"Oh, he's not starting to sound like Miguel; he's starting to sound like himself. Viole, it's time to come out of the closet."

"What...are...you...talking...about...Gatty?" Viole stared at Gatty, looking a bit dangerous.

Gatty actually took a step back at the look on his face. "You're a snob. Face it. Your good breeding and rich background are finally starting to surface."

Viole blinked, his face going from confused, to embarrassed, to amused in the span of three seconds. "Oh.... oh!"

"What did you think he meant by that, Viole?" Lord Dilandau asked, sitting in a chair and putting his elbows on the table, placing his chin onto his clasped hands. "The look on your face right then certainly was interesting."

Viole chuckled. "I thought he was making inferences about my sexuality or something."

Gatty nearly fell over as Lord Dilandau, Shesta, and Dallet hooted with laughter, Dallet beating the table with his palms.

"So, I'm a snob. Nothing wrong with that." Viole stuck his nose high into the air. "Don't we have some business to discuss?"

Viole trying to change the subject made them laugh even harder.

"Seriously guys! I didn't spend all day drawing blueprints for nothing!"

"Oh, so you were drawing blueprints for our mission. That whole time I thought you were drawing more plans for Miguel's private bath. That's why Guimel and I kept bothering you," Dallet snickered.

Viole made a crude gesture and ran a hand through his tangled hair, grimacing when his hand got stuck. "Fine, fine, make fun of me. I'll just go toss my plans in the bonfire out there and get drunk like Miguel and Guimel."

Viole stood with his arms folded over his chest until his friends kindly stopped laughing at him. "Are you guys sure you didn't drink more of that wine than you said?"

Lord Dilandau was the one to stop their mirth. "All right, all right, enough of that. Like Viole said, we have business to attend to."

Everyone took a seat at the table and gazed at Lord Dilandau attentively, moving their water glasses from the table to their laps so Lord Dilandau could spread out the maps he and Viole updated frequently with large red X's every time they demolished a facility. "Four glasses, one on each corner."

Gatty, Dallet, Shesta, and Viole placed their glasses on the four corners of the map to keep it from rolling back up. Lord Dilandau peered down at the map and placed his finger on a location in a mountainous region. "This is Keep Copernicus. Dornkirk keeps his own personal collection of writings here. I don't know if it holds anything important to Zaibach in there, but I know it'll royally piss Emperor Dumbshit off if we burn it up. Shouldn't be too hard. Zaibach's expecting us to hit some more of the weapons keeps and fortresses, so this place will be a sleeper."

"Should we leave the old units behind then and just take the Silvers out?" Gatty asked. "It'll save us some resources."

No one wanted to say anything, but Alseides didn't run on water and fuel was getting scarce.

Lord Dilandau frowned. "I don't want to run into any unexpected surprises unprepared, but you are right about the resource issue. That's something else we need to discuss."

"We can probably knock up a base just for fueling purposes," Shesta suggested.

Lord Dilandau frowned at this. "They may be waiting for us to do just that. They don't know where our base of operation is, but they do know that we need fuel and that Alseides don't run on the same stuff as other guymelefs."

"Too bad Folken isn't with Zaibach anymore. I bet he would have found a way to get us some," Viole sighed, running his fingers along the edges of the map absently.

Gatty glanced quickly at Lord Dilandau, wanting to see if he would give any reaction at the mention of Folken's name. Lord Dilandau looked thoughtful.

"Well... At least we know he isn't in danger of being hung for treason aboard a Zaibach fortress anymore," Shesta said softly. "I worried about that a lot, you know? He really put himself out on the line for us... for you, Lord Dilandau."

"Where do you think he went?" Dallet pondered aloud. "He couldn't have gone back to Fanelia. That place is dust. You know, I've been wondering how he could have ordered us to attack that place, his homeland. I mean, this place is nothing special, but I'd never willingly let anyone burn it down."

Lord Dilandau shrugged. "What Folken does is his business and as for where he went... I believe that he could find us if he really wanted to and would only do so if he really needed us. I say we let it go until then."

"You think we'll hear from him?" Shesta asked.

Lord Dilandau gave a wry smile. "I wouldn't put it out of mind."

"Great... then we can tell him to bring us more fuel," Viole said.

"So when did you want to launch this attack?" Gatty asked, stealing a sip of Lord Dilandau's water since he wasn't drinking it, and it wasn't being used as a paperweight like his was.

Lord Dilandau blinked at his actions before answering. "Well, I wanted to do it tomorrow, but Guimel and Miguel may not be up to it. I wanna make sure they're good and sober before we head out." He stopped to smile sadistically and Gatty shivered. Poor Miguel and Guimel.

"How about the morning after then?" Shesta proposed.

"Yes, that sounds good."

"So what's this region like? Has anyone been there?" Dallet leaned in to study the map, frowning at the mountains and valleys stenciled in.

"I have. It's not so bad," Viole said, "if you subtract the fact that my mother and sisters live there."

"Viole, this is where you were spawned? Oh-ho- this place we gotta see!" Dallet clapped his hands. "Is everyone there as cooky as you are?"

Viole stuck his tongue out at Dallet. "For your information, I'm the normal one."

"Oh gods! Are we sure we want to go there, Lord Dilandau?" Shesta looked a trifle alarmed and Gatty snickered.

"I'm sure we'll be ok," Lord Dilandau chuckled; he then stared at Gatty who was finishing his water. "Gatty, you are aware that was my water, right?"

Gatty nodded, setting down the empty glass. "You can have mine." He smiled cheekily as Lord Dilandau gave him the oddest little look. In the old days, he wouldn't have dared it. Lord Dilandau would have knocked his head off and stomped on it when it rolled across the floor and stopped at his feet. That odd look would have been deciphered as: Run like the wind. Now it was simply: I'm borderline amused.

"Gross, Gatty germs," Viole gasped. "Don't do it, Lord Dilandau! You'll be contaminated!"

With a smirk Lord Dilandau took Viole's nearly full glass of water and downed it. "There. Satisfied?"

Viole sputtered in mock indignation as his friends laughed at him...again.

"I suppose I should be happy that you guys finally developed a sense of humor," Viole said, trying not to smile while fighting back the need to join in on the laughter.

Lord Dilandau patted Viole on the back sympathetically, though it would have seemed more sympathetic if he wasn't laughing.

Viole couldn't resist any longer. He laughed with his friends and drank down Shesta's water, causing him to drink Dallet's and Dallet to drink Gatty's.

"If Zaibach could see us now, what would they think?" Gatty asked, wiping his eyes.

"They would probably think we've all lost it."

"I think we have, but you know? I think having 'it,' is overrated." Viole shrugged.

"Well you've never had 'it,' so how would you know?" Shesta quipped.

"Hey now..."

"What is 'it?'" Dallet asked with a frown.

Taking one look at the confused look on Dallet's face made the group break into hysterics again and everyone gave up on the prospect of carrying on any more serious conversation for the night.

* * *

Van's life officially stunk. His bastard of a brother, Folken, had come to his senses as Van understood it and joined the good guys, and Hitomi was with Allen. The latter didn't bother him as much, mainly because Hitomi with Allen kept her from annoying him, but by the gods did the walking icon of handsome, courtly fashion always have to get everything he wanted?

He growled in his throat as he sat in front of the Escaflowne, pretending to be doing maintenance work. He was really keeping an eye on Folken who was below conferencing with Astorian diplomats, but no one had to know that.

So far Astoria had welcomed his brother with open arms. They were ecstatic to have an ex-Zaibach official on their side as highly esteemed as Folken had been. He brought with him Zaibach plans and schematics as well as a red-haired, woman doctor skilled in things most countries had never heard of and a stiff-backed soldier whom Van was sure ate little kids for breakfast.

Van wished he could be as welcoming as Astoria to his brother. So Folken was no longer the bad guy, but the facts that he'd abandoned the family and had Fanelia destroyed still remained. Van didn't think he'd ever be able to look past that. He was barely civil to Folken, only speaking to him when words were needed, words like "move," and phrases like "pass the bread."

Van's eyes widened when he realized Folken was gazing at him. Bastard. Who told him he could look up here? Van turned his head and went back to looking busy. Maybe he was being a brat. He'd spent years wishing Folken would miraculously return and now there he was, and Van was snubbing him. Didn't he have things he wanted to ask Folken's advice on? He needed a big brother at this point, but his... Van sighed, breath sifting through his black hair like a breeze.

But then again... The thing Van wanted to ask about... The feelings, the person... Folken would have first hand knowledge on it-- him.

Why hadn't Folken brought Dilandau with him instead of Stiff-Back and Red? Van might have been less hesitant to overlook his past mistakes and more obvious flaws, if Folken had gifted him with the silver-haired god. But then, what would Van have done if Folken had summoned him to the remains of Fanelia and appeared before him with not just Red and Stiff-Back, but the God of Silver too? What would he say to him if he had to see him on a daily basis? And more importantly, Dilandau didn't usually travel alone. What if he brought Avenger with him? Avenger would lop off his head, both of them.

Everything was always so complicated for Van.

He looked down again to see that Folken and the other officials had gone and Hitomi was wandering toward his mecha without her precious Heavenly Knight.

Great.

Maybe she hadn't seen him...

"Van!"

Van's life stunk, stunk, STUNK!

* * *

"Give him time, Folken; he'll come around now that he's sure you're not going anywhere and you're on his side." Marie said, taking a small sip of lemonade and grimacing at its tartness. "This needs more sugar."

Folken frowned at Marie who appeared to be perfectly relaxed and maybe even enjoying herself in their new settings.

They'd been in Astoria a few days and had been given the only best lodgings and treatment from the nobles and servants. Didn't these people realize they were from Zaibach? If they didn't, Folken certainly wasn't going to remind them, but still...

They sat in the courtyard in folding chairs, Marie drinking lemonade and eating cookies while Folken and Pearce drank wine.

"I think they're being a little too trusting," Pearce said, swirling his wine around as if checking for poison.

"They're desperate," Marie said thickly, swallowing a mouthful of cookie. "These people will take what they can get, and if they want to butter us up while getting it, I'm not complaining. The heir apparent is putting me in charge of the medical staff. He wants me to train them all accordingly and I can have anything I wish at my disposal, all I need do is ask. I do believe he was being a little flirt, but the guy has a lot of stuff."

Pearce scowled. "Isn't a princess enough for him?"

"Apparently not," Marie said with a wave of her hand. "But who knows, maybe he's sick of blonds. Red-heads are coming into season and he wants to pick from the creme of the crop."

Both Folken and Pearce snorted.

"You're just jealous because no one's offered you anything overly interesting yet," Marie wrote them off.

"What do you think of the Astorian forces, Pearce? You've assessed them by now, I'm sure." Folken looked to Pearce.

Pearce raised a blond eyebrow, his pale eyes grim. "They're poorly trained and their weapons are obsolete compared to what we've worked with in Zaibach. They won't stand a chance unless some of the other countries they are teaming up with have better equipment, and I'm not sure that they do."

Folken shook his head. "Not that I know of. So I'll get to work designing better melefs for Astoria, and Pearce, maybe you can help in retraining the soldiers."

Pearce didn't look happy. "They need a lot of work, sir. I don't know if I could accomplish that task."

Marie ate her last cookie and looked at the two men on either side of her thoughtfully. "I think there's someone who may be able to help us in that regard."

"Who?" Pearce asked. "Sir Allen or Lord Van?"

"No." Marie shook her head. "Someone else, someone we all know and have all wanted to spank at least once."

Pearce rolled his eyes and Folken set down his empty wine glass.

"Dilandau?"

"Of course," Marie nodded. "He's perfect. He can train anything. I saw some of his Slayers when they first joined his ranks-pitiful, but he made them all into soldiers that can stand in, in place of a small army on the battlefield."

"They didn't stand up very well to the soldiers on the Vione," Pearce couldn't help but point out and both Marie and Folken glared at him.

"That was a dirty fight in close quarters. If that battle had taken place elsewhere and they'd been given ample time to prepare for it, I bet they'd have won. And how do you explain all of the damage they are doing to Zaibach right now with only six men? Luck? No. They're good."

"What if he doesn't want to; what if he's not up to the challenge?" Folken asked. "He may very well help us because I asked him to, but training an army such as this one is a very large task. He'll push himself harder than what he can handle."

Marie ran both hands through her hair, tugging a bit. "Folken, I don't see what else we can do. Zaibach must be defeated and the only way that can happen is if we gather all of our resources together. I don't see how joining forces with us is going to make Dilandau any worse. I imagine the stress of what he's doing now is eating him up. At least here, he'll have more supplies, more men, and us. I didn't like his cell counts, when I checked him last, and I bet they are even more horrific now. Even if we don't call him in to help with the military, he still needs to come to us for treatment. We can start looking for possible donors for transfusions or transplants among the soldiers, nobles, and common people of Astoria without anyone questioning our actions as they would have in Zaibach."

"But we don't have the same facilities..."

"So we build them," Marie shrugged. "Either way, I don't see that we have a choice in calling Dilandau and his men to us. They need help, we need help, and we're all good friends."

Pearce finished his wine and Folken looked heavenward. There was no arguing with Marie. The woman was always right.

Calling Dilandau did sound logical. They were allies once again fighting the same enemy; why not be side by side? The center of operations was in Astoria and that was where the Dragonslayers ought to be. Besides, Folken was sure they were running out of blueprints and on their last few dregs of fuel.

It wouldn't hurt to ask, and Dilandau owed him one.

Folken had never intended to make use of Dilandau's offer of service, but he had also never intended to leave Zaibach either.

"We'll have to present the idea to Dryden and the other officials."

"Yes, and I'm sure they'll go along with whatever you say," Marie nodded.

"And then we have to find, Dilandau," Folken said. "That will be the hard part."

"Not if the three of us put our heads together, gentlemen. Come on, get up. We've got work to do. Pearce and I will start looking for possible places the Dragonslayers may have set up camp, and you, Folken dear, can start preparing for your announcement."

Marie was on her feet and already walking away, leaving Pearce and Folken to stare after her.

"Maybe we should have gotten some of that lemonade too. It was certainly stronger than this vino," Pearce said flatly and Folken made a soft noise in agreement.

* * *

"Oh my gods... that was the worst mission I have ever been on in my life," Miguel was groaning. "And why...why...why did we have to come back to this godsforsaken place with no running water..." He retched again and Dilandau rubbed his back.

They were under a large tree a few steps away from where they had parked their Alseides. The destruction of Decartes had been a by-the-book affair that hadn't taken more than a few hours. Miguel and Guimel could have been left behind to recuperate, but Dilandau wanted to teach them a little lesson about drinking unknown substances the night before a job.

A day hadn't been enough to detox the two hung-over soldiers, though Guimel was faring much better than Miguel. He either hadn't drunk as much or had better tolerance. Miguel gasped for air, sputtering more angry curses concerning everything under the sun and above it as well. Dilandau rolled his eyes.

"No one told you to get drunk, Miguel."

"They kept pouring..." Miguel groaned. "And that woman... oh gods, I almost... and what if she..."

Dilandau rested a hand on Miguel's back as he heaved again and raised an eyebrow at Viole who had wandered over, holding a glass of water. "I'll take care of him now, Lord Dilandau. Sorry I took so long. There were no clean glasses in the kitchen and I couldn't remember which one Miguel had used. I didn't want to hear his complaints, so I washed one."

Dilandau nodded; perfectly understandable. "But Viole, I've seen you wash..."

"I'll tell him Shesta washed it," Viole said dutifully. "Do you need help up?"

Dilandau was sitting with his legs straddled in front of him. He had his back to the squatting Miguel, but could easily feel for the other boy to offer him some comfort. He wanted to lie back in the grass and shut his eyes; he was starting to see green and silver sparkles. "I'll stay here. You can take him away though."

"It's too hot," Viole said, setting the glass in the grass. "Come on milord, you're getting up." Dilandau scowled and tried to move away from Viole as he tried to grab him under the arms and boost him up.

"Hey Gatty, come watch Miguel for a minute. Make sure he doesn't spew his intestines," Viole called over his shoulder. Dilandau relented to Viole's insistent tugging and helped himself to stand, leaning heavily on Viole as he was struck with a sudden dizzy spell.

He hated the first few hours after returning from missions. Folken and Marie's concoction burned in his veins, trying to combat his body's natural overreaction. The ongoing battle was painful and disorienting and... "How much can you carry, Viole?"

"Oh crud! Hey, Gatty...never mind watching Miguel. Take Lord Dilandau from me!"

The change of hands was confusing, but he felt himself resting against stronger shoulders in the end. "This one's really bad."

He could have slapped Gatty for stating the obvious, but he couldn't quite figure out where his hands were. If he still had hands... He was pretty sure he did. Someone would have said something if they had fallen off somewhere.

"I got him, Dallet; go somewhere!"

Next thing he knew, he was resting against something soft and someone was tucking a pillow under his head. The surface was too small to be a bed, so he must have been on one of the couches. It was a bit cooler in the living room.

"Ok, what do you think you need?"

Shesta.

He opened his eyes a crack to peer at the concerned blond. "I don't know this time."

Last time all he had needed was a few apples and a bottle of seltzer water to make him feel halfway decent again. He had no cravings for anything right then.

"Well, just be still for a bit and maybe something will come to you."

"Oh my gods...why does this place smell like food?" Guimel's voice was grumbling from somewhere. Dilandau could hear the front door closing and many feet plodding in different directions.

"Lunch is here or dinner; however you want to think of it," Viole announced. "Come on Guimel, just try some...OW!"

"Guimel don't hit Viole!" Miguel snapped, outraged.

"Miguel... you're standing up for me?"

"It's my turn to hit him!" Miguel clarified for anyone who was confused.

"Ow!"

Dilandau shifted his position a bit, willing himself to fuse with the plush cushions of the couch. A nap, that was what he needed.

"Lord Dilandau!"

Shit.

"Give it to me, Dallet..." Shesta was hissing.

"But it's a message from Folken!"

"What?"

Dilandau opened his eyes completely and struggled to sit up. He felt a steadying hand behind his back give him the boost he needed to be upright. He covered his eyes with one hand to orient himself with his new position then looked at Dallet expectantly.

"I was running shut down diagnostics on your Oreades when the message came through. I probably should have written it down, but it came up so fast. At first, I thought the enemy had hacked our systems like we've hacked theirs... but, I'm sure it's Folken. The trace I ran on the message says it came from Astoria. Anyway, Folken is not sure of our whereabouts exactly and didn't ask. He, and Dr. Marie, and that personal guard guy, Pearce, have joined Astorian forces against Zaibach, and he wants us to become a part of the movement as well. Seems the army there is lacking."

Dilandau laughed disdainfully then gasped in pain at the head rush he received. "I hope the rest of the Astorian forces don't look as ridiculous as Allen Schezar's men. By the gods... We could have walked into the castle that night."

"We did," Shesta snickered.

"Why would he go to Astoria of all places?" Dallet scratched his head. He sat on the floor with his back to the cushion Dilandau occupied. "Why not Basram or Godashim?"

"Think about it, Dallet. His dear brother King Fanel is good friends with Sir Allen Schezar. Van has no one else to lodge with, so of course he's probably with Allen..."

"Who lives in Astoria," Dallet finished lamely. "Why would Folken want to join his brother? I think it's pretty clear the kid doesn't like him much."

"Doesn't mean Van hates him," Dilandau muttered. "Folken probably figures he still has a chance to reconcile with Van. He... he's trying to make amends to everyone he cares about that he's hurt with his actions in Zaibach."

Folken, you're a soft-hearted idiot.

Dallet snorted. "Well...good luck with that, Folken."

"Are we going to go?" Shesta asked. He had moved from the arm chair he was keeping vigil with Dilandau in over to the arm of the couch. He touched the side of Dilandau's face with curled knuckles and frowned lightly.

Dilandau scowled. Should they go? He assessed their current situation mechanically. They had good lodgings, good food, their location was unknown, the locals were friendly and more than willing to help out. On the other hand, their resources were running low, the locals were friendlybut untrained in military procedures, everyday they were in the village they chanced the safety of it, and... he was running out of game plans. He was quickly approaching his last map and the last of his Zaibach knowledge. He didn't feel his fight was over yet, though. Folken would give him a whole new objective.

And...

And he would like to work with Folken again. He missed driving the man nuts.

"It would mean that we go on fighting. Our current plans have us finishing our ultimate mission in two more attacks. We can stop after that, if you wish. Do you want to keep fighting? It's not my decision to make for you."

"I'm a soldier," Dallet said flatly. "I fight. It's my job. What else would I do? And there is no way I'm staying here for the rest of my life."

"So you can venture out..."

"But what chance would I stand without a name, a reputation? I vote we go," Dallet said with a nod.

"I think we should too," Shesta said. "And if some of us decide not to fight anymore, who says they have to? Folken wouldn't force anyone."

"We have to wait and ask everyone..."

"What do you want to do, Lord Dilandau?" Shesta asked, now pressing the back of his hand against Dilandau's forehead and testing the temperature of his own. "Are you hot?"

"No, don't think so..." Dilandau shut his eyes for a moment, attuning himself to his body's thermostat. If anything, he was a little chilly. "And-- I would like to join Folken again. I may not like Astoria, but I do like him. Also, I once told Folken that if he ever needed me for anything, all he had to do was ask. I never thought he would, but I'd like to honor my word."

"Well that's all it's going to take to convince the others to go."

"I'm not going to tell them my opinion," Dilandau said, slumping back into the couch pillows. "One of you make the announcement and discuss it amongst yourselves."

"Yes sir," Shesta said, then leaned forward on his elbows. "So... did you figure out what you need?"

"A nap..." Dilandau murmured. "Don't wake me for anything short of an invasion."

"Yes sir."

"Awaiting your orders, sir."

* * *

Valeska rolled her eyes. She knew her team was getting impatient, but the constant reminders of their presence was an unneeded distraction. As if distractions were ever needed.

She glowered at the shabby little town below her that she and her Gorgons had followed Dilandau and his little Dragonslayers to.

Pitiful Dilandau. He really could have done a lot better for himself, if he was the person she'd studied him to be. His raid on Keep Copernicus was poetry in the book of battle tactics. The building had gone up in a beautiful blaze that nearly brought tears to her eyes. She was eager to test his skill first hand.

She was giving him a little time to settle in, rest up, so he'd be fresh for her. An hour after set down was long enough. It had given her enough time to send scouts to survey the terrain and population.

It was a small secluded area fenced in by trees. Perfect for battle and capture. Valeska's orders were to exterminate Dilandau's Dragonslayers, but to take the man in charge alive, if possible.

After Copernicus, she didn't think it was going to be possible. One of them would have to die, and it wasn't going to be her. She looked at the time piece on her control panel. Exactly one hour had passed. She grinned and cracked her knuckles in anticipation.

"Gorgons... get ready. Lyle, fire a crima claw at that sweet little house right down there on my count of 3... That ought to get their attention. One...two... three!"

* * *

The crash startled Shesta from the light slumber he had fallen into.

"What the...?" Gatty's voice sounded from another room.

More loud crashes followed. It sounded as if a house had been plowed into by a... a crima claw. He sprang up from his seat and rushed out the front door, joining Dallet and Viole on the porch. Gatty had run from the back of the house to the front and stood in the grass a few feet away from the porch.

From their positions they could see the cloud of dust compiling in the air left by pounds of wood collapsing in on itself.

"I knew this freakin' place was a dump. It was only a matter of time before the houses started falling in on themselves..." Miguel stumbled out of the house, pushing past Shesta and Dallet to lean on the wooden railing of the porch.

"Smell the air Miguel. That's liquid metal!"

"Holy shit! You think Zaibach's found us?"

"Viole, go get Lord Dilandau!"

"But he said..."

"Don't wake him for anything short of an invasion! Well I think this qualifies as an invasion!" Shesta shouted, pushing Viole into the house.

"Dallet come with me to the Silvers! Shesta, Miguel, go check on the damage to the city! Guimel...shit!" Guimel had not come out of the house. "Whatever! Lets move!"

Dallet and Gatty hustled off in the direction of the Silvers and Blues.

Shesta took Miguel by the arm. "Come on. It'll only take a minute."

"Gods..." Miguel groaned and yelped when Shesta started running, dragging him after him.

* * *

"He's not waking up!" Viole shook Lord Dilandau again. The silver haired captain turned his face into the pillows and swatted him away.

"I'll get some water; you keep trying." Guimel jogged into the kitchen.

"Come on, this would be funny as hell if we weren't under attack," Viole muttered, sitting Lord Dilandau up and groaning when he flopped over his shoulder. "Are you ticklish, hmm?"

He was willing to try anything.

"Let him go," Guimel said, pulling Lord Dilandau off of Viole and splashing the entire glass of water in the captain's face. He barely flinched.

"What the hell? Think he drank some of that poison Miguel and I did from the other night after all?" Guimel stared.

"Think he's dead?"

"Uh...." Guimel bit his lip. "Ok, protect me after I do this. Promise me, Viole!"

"What are you gonna...?"

Guimel readied his hand and slapped Lord Dilandau hard across the face, leaving a beautiful red palm print on their leader's cheek. The sound of the slap resounded and echoed in their ears.

Guimel uttered quiet prayers as Viole gapped like a beached fish.

Lord Dilandau's eyes opened into mean slits. "Who...?"

"Guimel!" Viole pointed at the guilty blond who sputtered.

"Lord Dilandau, we think the village is being invaded!"

Another crash from outside.

"What the hell was that?" Lord Dilandau rubbed his face, noticing for the first time that he was wet.

"Zaibach."

"Is he up? We gotta get to the Silvers... Zaibach's here!" Miguel burst through the front door. "We have to lead them out of the village!"

"Dammit," Lord Dilandau rose to his feet, wobbling a bit. "Where are the others?"

"Already to the Silvers."

"Good. What kind of attack force is out there and how many?"

"Alseides of an unfamiliar model and there are 9 of them."

"Help me," Lord Dilandau steadied himself on Guimel and Viole's shoulders. "Ok, let me go."

They hurried from the house, Lord Dilandau narrowing his eyes at the darkening sky. "No Alseides have landed in the village?"

"No, they're just firing claws every few minutes," Miguel huffed.

"They must have followed us back from Copernicus..." Lord Dilandau grumbled.

They stopped in their tracks as the massive shadow of several Alseides in battle mode swallowed them up.

* * *

"Where IS he?" Valeska growled. "Throw some fire down this time. I don't think we're being taken seriously enough!"

They couldn't possibly have evacuated, could they?

Who's to say the Dragonslayers cared about this town and its people? Valeska knew she would not, but she also wouldn't run from an outright challenge.

"Dilandau!" She cooed over her speakers. If he was still there, that would definitely interest him. "Come out, come out, wherever you are! I'm tired of counting; it's time to do some seeking!"

With a wild laugh, she plummeted toward the ground, ignoring the startled yelps of her squad. They should be used to her antics by now, but they still managed to act so surprised every time she did something... unexpected.

Her Alseid landed in the middle of town square with a loud crash. There were a few screams from below. Wonder if she'd crushed a few civilians?

The thought amused her greatly.

"Hmm... If I were a pasty-faced, red-eyed freak where would I hide?" She prowled through the village, letting the flanks of her guymelef brush against and crumble the sides of houses and buildings.

"Sir! In the sky, two silver Alseides!"

Only two and neither one had a red belly.

"Permission to battle?"

"Granted."

What little game are we playing now, Dilandau?

* * *

"Lord Dilandau, Gatty and Dallet are already in the skies trying to lead the enemy away," Shesta called down from his Silver. He watched Lord Dilandau, Viole, Miguel, and Guimel run to Silvers behind his and climb into the cockpits.

"We'll join Gatty and Dallet," Lord Dilandau said over the comm in his guymelef. Shesta could hear him still shifting and getting himself comfortable in the machine.

"One's set down in the city!" Gatty's voice crackled. "It's probably the leader."

Shesta slammed a fist on the control panel. Damn. What were they to do about that? There couldn't be a battle in town square. The people were smart enough to clear out, but what of their homes?

"Flight mode. I'll send a message to the leader via speaker," Lord Dilandau said, sounding very calm.

"Yes sir."

Once in air, they circled high until they spotted Gatty and Dallet and finally the Alseid in the center of town giving cat calls over its loud speaker, demanding Lord Dilandau's presence.

"That voice. It sounds like that bitch Adelphos is always grumbling about- what's her name?"

"Well whoever it is, is pissing me off," Lord Dilandau said silkily. "This is Captain Dilandau Albatou. Did you need something soldier?"

Shesta heard chuckles from Viole and Guimel over the comm and sighed; Lord Dilandau so loved trying the patience of his enemies.

The soldier below laughed; it was a rich, feminine sound. "So there you are. You've kept me waiting for a very long time."

Shesta frowned. Valeska- that was the bitch's name.

"Move! She's coming up!" Lord Dilandau ordered out of nowhere. Valeska hadn't even moved yet, but Shesta didn't hesitate to obey. They scattered, spiraling out into a diamond formation at the same time Valeska came hurtling toward them, full speed with a yodeling war cry.

"You're all mine now, Captain. Gorgons, clear the skies of all but Dilandau and I!"

"Slayers, we're going to go west and try to lead this fight away from town," Lord Dilandau said through their private comm-links. Shesta never understood people who gave orders over the loud speakers so that the enemies as well as the squadron could hear them. "Points formation, I'll take lead."

"Yes sir!"

"Now!"

They sped off, Shesta shoving his throttle forward as far as it could go. His head snapped back at the breakneck speed and he gritted his teeth.

"They're giving chase," Gatty reported.

"Go toward the hills, then hit the brakes and tackle the followers. I get the leader."

"Destroy the units or try to keep them intact? They look pretty nice. We could use them," Dallet said.

"Salvage what you can, but by all means don't kill yourselves for the sake of machinery," Lord Dilandau said. "Approaching hills. Slayers.... ready?"

Shesta swallowed hard. He was going to be airsick after this.

"Go!"

Shesta pulled the brake, grateful to be slowing down, then yanked the throttle toward him to send himself flying in the opposite direction, toward an enemy guymelef.

The poor guy didn't even see him coming. He plowed into the unsuspecting pilot, sending him crashing to the ground with a scream of terror. The guymelef struck the earth with a loud crash and didn't move to get up.

Hmm... he fired a crima claw at it, piercing the melef through the heart and watching it bleed its life's blood.

Better safe than sorry.

Next!

* * *

She'd almost scored a hit and he fought the urge to slap himself, anything to knock the cobwebs out of his brain. He ducked another blow and caught a punch, tossing Valeska back.

"What's the matter, Dilandau? Are you asleep in there?" She landed a love tap on his chest plate, rattling his melef. "Oh that could so easily have been a kill, but I don't want to kill you easy, Dilandau! Fight me or I'll keep cutting at you until that stupid unit of yours is in pieces and you fall to your death!"

Dilandau narrowed his eyes. If his Slayers weren't so nearby, he would seriously be considering setting this woman on fire. Unfortunately the flame thrower on his Silver Oreades had not been calibrated for usage on single enemies. He'd flambee the forest and everything unlucky enough to be in it at the time. He dodged another run through and lifted his unit higher in the air, further away from his Slayers who were doing quite well against Valeska's incompetents.

"Running from me, Precious?" As expected, Valeska boosted herself up after him. He could feel the superior smirk that had to be smeared on her face.

Stupid bitch. Didn't she know who she was dealing with? He was Dilandau Albatou, slayer of armies, leader of the best men Gaea had ever seen, and the worst nightmare of all those who opposed him.

But he was not showing this to her.

What Valeska was getting was a joke. She had every right to tease him for his performance.

He growled deep in his throat.

He needed to get pissed. He needed the rush of testosterone and adrenaline that a nice wave of rage could give him.

He had to fight the sedatives in his system...

"Dilly... Are you being shy? Is that why you're avoiding me?"

His hands were beginning to shake as blood rushed to his cheeks. Shy?

"Or maybe you're scared? Perhaps you've heard of me then. You've heard how I'm the best soldier in Zaibach, and how I outrank even you."

Scared? He began to breathe faster as sweat peppered his brow and trickled from the top of his neck inside the collar of his shirt.

"You and your pitiful Slayers have been replaced, and now my Gorgons and I are here to take out the trash as per suggested by the Emperor himself."

He could hear the blood in his ears as his heart pounded faster. He ignored the itch of perspiration traveling down his back and blinked the stinging sweat out of his eyes.

"Oh, but don't worry, Dilly. I'm to take you in alive. The Sorcerers think they know what's wrong with you now and want to correct their mistake."

Sorcerers? The growl in his throat turned into a roar of outrage. His vision was tinged with blood and focused on a single melef unit in the sky that laughed and jeered at him.

He released a crima claw, lengthening and thickening the liquid metal into a wicked sword. "Valeska..." He called, his voice coy. "You talk too damn much."

He lunged and she parried quickly, but she had clearly underestimated the strength of his oncoming attack for her guymelef was forced back a few feet.

"Aw... did I hurt your feelings, baby? Let me apologize!"

Dilandau saw her move before she'd even executed it. She swung low, trying to cut his side and duck beneath the reach of his blade. He pushed his Oreades forward, barreling into hers in a wild tackle, both melefs flip-flopping over each other in the sky like a pair of trapeze artists. Before Valeska could roll from the attack and ready herself, Dilandau was pulling out of the spin and slashing down at her unit.

She moved a split second too late, taking a hit to the arm. She snarled as liquid metal blood wept from the wound and Dilandau chuckled over the speaker for her listening pleasure. He attacked again before she could recover. All of her moves were just too slow to counter his and she was being backed up. In the open air, she had the advantage of never finding herself backed into a corner. But was that advantage going to work for her or against her?

Dilandau was quite content at chopping away at the melef body before him without giving it a change to retaliate. His movements were like lightning, everything before him was a red blur. She didn't stand a chance against him!

Best soldier my ass!

This was fun! He laughed, cackled really, not wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes.

Something in his cockpit was making noise...

Shut up! He shook his head, trying to ignore the whining gadget. He couldn't take his eyes off the enemy to locate it. He had to kill.

There was a soft hiss, and a cool mist spread throughout his cockpit, drenching him. That felt good. He'd been getting hot.

Ah...ah... Valeska was trying to recover. No, no, my dear. He fired an extra crima claw, drilling it into her side, keeping her bound to him.

Now he was going to punch her head...

Oh... he choked.

What.... ?

His heart had somehow jumped into his throat. It beat so furiously he couldn't get a deep breath. Gods...

The red haze over his vision was thickening into paste. He couldn't see... but he knew he still had her in his grasp. He could still finish her off...

"Lord Dilandau!"

Go away!

"Your suit is about to shift into autopilot! Let us take care of the enemy for you!"

"No!"

"Lord Di...."

He wasn't listening to them anymore. He had business to attend to. "Still there, Valeska, my sweet?"

"Bastard!" She screamed at him, confirming her position. Still in place. Perfect.

"Be a good girl and hold still for me, Val. I want a clean kill."

I'm probably going to explode after this, but at least I'll know that she died before me. He pulled the arm of the Oreades back, preparing to strike and...

"WHAT THE....._ That's cold_!"

He was thoroughly saturated with cold water. It was as if an arctic waterfall had somehow relocated itself over his head. He screamed as a geyser suddenly opened up in front of him too. He was being doused from all sides.

Holy freakin' shit....

Well that had killed the mood. All his previous rage at Valeska dissipated as he shivered and tried to cover the spigots still drenching him. The autopilot kicked in and went about detaching Dilandau from the external battle, pulling out of Valeska's incapacitated guymelef, and bringing him safely to the ground.

How embarrassing was this?

Oh was Folken ever going to hear about this one.

Lousy, overprotective prick.

I had her...

* * *

Valeska was grinning so hard she thought her cheeks were going to fall off when Dilandau finally started fighting her like he meant it. She cursed herself for not being ready for his first strike. She didn't roll with the blow and ended up giving ground...air... whatever.

Purring a bit, she teased, "Aw... did I hurt your feelings, baby?" She prepared her next attack. She could deck him from the side, slicing into his abdomen and rendering his left side useless. Shooting out a claw of her own to use as a blade, she executed her move while crying out, "Let me apologize!"

She gasped as she was blinded by a blur of silver and red smashing into her unit. Her body was thrown backward then forward as her melef was propelled into a wild tailspin. She braced herself, gripping her harness and gritting her teeth. Shit.

He'd predicted her move!

The spin was losing momentum and she tried to pull out, but not before he did! Dilandau's Oreades was already recovering and coming at her again for attack. She pulled up; hurry up you stupid hunk of junk!

She couldn't get out of the way of his attack! She was hit! She kept retreating, hoping he would give her an opening for counterattack, but with the way he was moving that wasn't likely.

Was he possessed...

She heard him laughing.

... Like the Dragon has been?

She didn't feel the icy touch of fear running its hands along her body as she did when she'd fought the Escaflowne. She didn't feel the urge to run. She wanted to keep fighting, if Dilandau would ever give her the chance to recover.

Valeska knew she had to keep dodging his blows, keeping the damage to her unit as light as possible... though a monitor beeped at her, letting her know she was losing critical fluid from the wound in her side.

He was going to get tired; he had to. Nothing could keep moving at that pace.

The Oreades relented on its attack for a split second. That was all she needed. She was going to fire the adhesive, freeze him in his tracks, and end this quickly.

She righted her mecha and configured the double glue guns to hit the legs and arms, and from there she would coat the rest of the body. Fire!

A low groan emitted from somewhere deep in her machine and a warning screen flashed before her. Danger it read. There wasn't enough power! All reserves were going toward life support. There was a soft noise and she looked down at her feet to see a thick, congealing sea of liquid metal flooding her cockpit.

Not good.

Damn.

She yelled as her Alseid rocked again and the horrid screeching sound of metal being torn assaulted her ears. Her systems were failing; alarms in her cockpit were screaming.

What the hell just....

He'd fired another crima claw at her! Dammit, she tried to back away from him. She had to evacuate, but she was stuck. She saw the face of Dilandau's model on her monitors. He hadn't retracted his claw.

"Gorgons some assistance!" Valeska prayed her communication system still worked. A faint hissing of static told her it was still functional, but there was silence from her subordinates.

Silence?

"Lyle? Peter? Hans?"

Oh gods. Her attention flitted back to Dilandau as he called her name, asking if she was still there... She slammed her hand down on the control, wanting to broadcast to the world what she thought of him.

"Bastard!"

Her Gorgons... her team... Were they dead, or had they been cowards and run away? She hoped it wasn't the latter. She despised cowards and deserters.

"Be a good girl and hold still for me, Val. I want a clean kill."

She did all she could to squirm and writhe, only serving to spill more precious lifeblood from her unit.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way! He was not supposed to beat her! She was his superior! She roared with rage, screaming curses at him. She would not die like this! She had to get free of him. She needed another weapon, another chance, another battlefield...

Her melef gave a shudder, but it wasn't one from a killing blow. Pressure was being relieved from the abdomen of her Alseid. Suddenly she was falling, her melef tumbling at an alarming rate. She shut her eyes, saying a silent prayer before hitting the button for the emergency thrusters.

_Please be online._

_Please be online_.

A soft whir made Valeska sigh in relief. She wiped the sweat from her brow as her melef slowly descended into the blanket of trees below. Her body was protected from the rough jostles and shakes that wracked her guymelef by the gooey exoskeleton of soft metal as it struck thick branches on its way down.

With a loud crash she hit the ground and her last conscious thought of killing Dilandau for the humiliation he'd just dealt her.

_You're a worthy opponent, Dilandau, and I will be honored to be the one who kills you._

* * *

"He's pulling out," Viole announced, sounding relieved as the shrill alarms that had been erupting in their Alseides warning them of their Lord's growing distressed began to quiet.

Gatty watched as Lord Dilandau's Oreades retracted its crima claw from the purple guymelef and began landing preparations. Good.

"Think he finished her?" Guimel asked.

Valeska's purple giant was falling at a rapid speed, but as it disappeared from sight, Gatty heard a familiar sound. Engine fire.

"No."

"Do you think he knows?" Dallet questioned.

"Of course he does," Miguel snorted.

Gatty had no doubt he did either, which was why he was already prepping his Silver for landing. He would stop Lord Dilandau from pursuing the woman on the ground if he had to physically pick him up and carry him away.

Shesta had beaten him to the punch, though. Gatty scowled when he noticed Shesta's Silver about to touch ground a few feet from Lord Dilandau's unit. He landed, watching Shesta scramble out of his Alseid and run toward Lord Dilandau's. The hatch of the Oreades was open and if Gatty squinted he could just make out a tiny figure on his hands and knees in the grass.

Oh no...

Land faster! He opened his hatch before his Silver had completely touched the ground and shimmied down the right leg, letting himself drop the last foot and a half. Hitting the ground running, he sped over to where Shesta was kneeling beside Lord Dilandau and threw himself down beside them.

"Are you..." Gatty paused in asking his question, staring at both Shesta and Lord Dilandau. Lord Dilandau was soaking wet, water ran off him in rivulets, and he was shaking, hard. Shesta...

Shesta was chuckling.

"What's...?"

Lord Dilandau looked up, his crimson eyes shining with mirth. "Folken installed a sprinkler system in my cockpit...and a hose..."

He laughed outright then, nearly falling over.

Gatty had never been so confused.

"To calm him down, instead of some fancy sophisticated system and procedure, Folken used fire precautions," Shesta explained, patting Lord Dilandau's back. "You would think he'd be mad about it."

"Oh, I'm pissed. I am so pissed I can't find the right curses to express myself properly," Lord Dilandau giggled. "He freakin' hosed me!"

"With what, happy water?" Gatty muttered. "You're a mess."

The wind about them picked up as the other Silvers landed in a neat arc. "Can you stand, sir? The others are gonna freak if they see you in a heap and Shesta and I leaning over you?"

The captain was still snickering and now using Shesta for support, burying his head in his shoulder.

"Oh gods! I knew this was a bad idea! We should have taken care of it all ourselves. Those guys were easy!" Viole was shouting.

Gatty rolled his eyes and stood, whirling to face the onslaught of hypochondriac soldiers with his arms spread out at his sides to keep them from passing him.

"He's fine," Gatty said.

"I'm fine," Lord Dilandau echoed with a hiccup.

"What happened? Why are you all wet?" Viole and Miguel pushed past Gatty as if he wasn't there and sat down on either side of Shesta and Lord Dilandau, soon to be joined by Dallet and Guimel. Gatty blew his bangs from his eyes with a snort and plopped himself down where he stood.

"Not important," Lord Dilandau said, waving a hand. He sat up and pushed wet hair off his face, wringing it out with one hand. "Were all of the Gorgons taken care of?"

Miguel chuckled darkly. "It was almost too easy."

"They didn't fight together as a team very well," Dallet remarked. "They may have been competition if they'd mastered that one."

"Valeska didn't seem like much of a captain," Guimel said dryly. "You think she survived that fall? I know I heard a back up engine come on, but I also heard a crash."

"If she was half as good as she boasted herself to be, she did," Lord Dilandau said, frowning at his soggy clothing. "I wouldn't know her skill; I didn't exactly give her a chance to show it."

"No, you didn't!" Viole hooted. "She didn't stand a chance in hell! None of them did. I'm a little insulted. Zaibach could have sent someone better after us; someone with a little class, some finesse."

"They don't have Dragonslayers Anymore, remember?- and no one qualified enough to train more like us," Miguel huffed. "Zaibach's sunk to a new low."

"Poor them. So what now?" Guimel asked, leaning forward to sample for himself the degree of dampness of Lord Dilandau's apparel. "Our location has been breeched. Zaibach will undoubtably send more soldiers to the area, and... well the villagers may not be so happy about us hanging around anymore after what happened today."

"They knew the risk," Dallet snorted. "If anything, they'll apologize to us for the place being a mess."

"Probably won't even notice the damages," Miguel muttered under his breath, then yelped as he caught an elbow in the stomach. "Oh my gods... did you HAVE to hit me there?!"

"We can't stay here." Lord Dilandau ignored Miguel and Dallet's minor altercation in favor of Guimel's question.

"Where will we go then?" Viole asked, smirking at a slightly green Miguel glaring at a grinning Dallet.

Lord Dilandau sighed and looked at his hands. "Folken's run to Astoria and he's joined their forces against Zaibach. He's requested my presence, and I wish to join him. None of you are obligated to come with me. You can go wherever you want. Our mission, our revenge... is over today with the fall of the Gorgons. You're free."

Gatty blinked and his mouth hung agape. Was he being dismissed?

"When did this happen?"

"Dallet brought the message to me right after we returned from Copernicus."

"And when were we to be told of this...dismissal?"

Lord Dilandau looked up then, his bright eyes wide with surprise. Staring at Gatty, he said, "I'm not firing you, Gatty, but I understand that some of you may be tired of fighting and I'm not binding you to my decisions any longer. I was going to have Shesta and Dallet tell you and have you discuss it amongst yourselves without me there to influence your decisions. The attack got in the way. I'm sure if we'd have told the Gorgons our plans for the night they may have come back in the morning."

"Yeah, they seemed ever so polite," Guimel rolled his eyes. Reaching to take one of the hands Lord Dilandau kept glancing at to avoid making eye contact with them, he said, "Lord Dilandau, I've bound myself to you. You don't have the authority to dismiss me on those grounds because you didn't give me the order."

"Or me," Viole shook his head.

"Me either," Miguel said, managing to pull off a look that showed both sincerity and pride while trying not to throw up. "Remember I said that, sir! Excuse me!"

"Class and finesse equals Miguel Lavariel," Guimel muttered as they watched Miguel's hasty getaway.

"I already told you where I stand on the issue," Dallet said flatly and Shesta nodded along. "So that only leaves..."

All eyes were on Gatty.

It took him a moment to realize it, but when he did, he blushed. He looked heavenward then back at the others, at Lord Dilandau.

"As if you even had to ask," Gatty sighed. "Where you go, I go and nothing's going to change that, so get over it."

"We're like acne; once you get it, it's forever baby," Viole exclaimed, launching himself at Lord Dilandau to hug him, then gasping. "Ah! You're freakin' wet! Now are you going to explain how this happened or are we going to have to wait until we get to Astoria?"

"You'll have to wait until we get to Astoria. We've got some major preparations to make and some thanks and promises to deliver."

They had to pack, load the Silvers and Blues, and say goodbye to their temporary haven. Gatty stood, brushing the grass from his uniform and watched as the others did the same. Lord Dilandau remained in his perch in the grass, leaned forward, elbows planted in the dirt, chin resting on top of his hands. He batted his lashes at them as they waited for him to explain why he wasn't moving.

"Sir?" Shesta finally asked, failing to repress a smile as it dawned on all of them what the problem was. It was like a one large, collective lightbulb being turned on.

"Yes, Shesta?"

"Would you like a piggyback ride?"

Shesta didn't see the wet shirt flying at him until it smacked him in the face with a loud splat.

* * *

Author's Note: Ok, all done...finally. I hope you all liked that. Please review and let me know!Take care!

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Reviewer Responses:

Pocketfirefairy: Lol, I'm still going. Sooner or later, you're going to ask me to stop ;) Thanks for reviewing and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

Mealik: Thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed the chapter and take care!

DragonSteel: Oh my... How to begin to answer your questions? Some of them were answered in the chapter lol ;). But...lets see... Most of the things Valeska recalls in the last chapter were implied things taken from the anime. Adelphos hasn't liked Valeska since she set foot on his ship lol. The "Strategos didn't want her on his ship" is an assumption made on Valeska's part, since she hasn't met the man nor has he made any requests to meet her. (And though it wasn't said, it is true). Um...the new Alseides question. I don't quite understand that question. Yes they do use both sets of units when they need more manpower.. But they do have to be present on the battlefield to control them. Well, I hope that answers everything lol. Or maybe it confused you more :). I hope you liked the chapter, take care!

Kaitourei: Hehehe, well I hope you liked Valeska in this chapter. She gets to strut her stuff, though she gets her butt kicked, miserably. But you know what, she still thinks she's the best, so it's ok lol! Miguel/Viole interaction is fun; I didn't get a chance to single them out too much in this chapter though. Could you imagine how long it would have been? Lol. I hoped the other Slayer interaction scenes sufficed :). He, he, he, Dilandau in class was fun too. Just wait until he teams back up with Folken ;) chuckling. Speaking of Folken, yes, his talk with Van and everything happens just like it did in the series only with Pearce and Marie present in the background. I chose not to write out that part. I'm really trying to move this thing along lol. Well... I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, thank you for reviewing and take care!

GakiFang: My story kicks ass? Why thank you! Lol! I'm blushing, really ;) Giggling Thanks for the review. Your words mean a lot :) Take care and I hope you enjoyed the latest chapter!

Tomorrow Sounds Good: A lot of time and effort does go into this story, but it's all worth it, because I'm having so much fun writing it and loving that it's getting such a good response :). The story is already pretty long and I see it becoming a monster before I'm through. I've got a few more planned events before I can let the story die down. Maybe 5 to 10 more chapters? We'll see. My favorite part of the story is the relationships between Dilandau and the Dragonslayers too ;). Your welcome and thank you so very much! Take care and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Skippys Cat: Stories kicking ass I get the funniest mental imagine when I think of that, lol. Thanks! Yes, the healer is lucky he's dealing with the "nice" Dilandau lol. I hope you enjoyed reading about the drunken escapades of the Slayers and Dilandau and Valeska's showdown. Now it's time to reunite Dilandau, the Slayers, and Folken, and reintroduce Dilandau to Van. This is what I've been waiting for lol! Thanks for reviewing girl and I hope you liked this chapter! Take care!

Jhaylin: Hehehehe, well they took out the fort, and Valeska didn't kill any of them lol. But now that she's been humilated... We'll see what happens next lol. I hope you enjoyed the chapter; thanks for reviewing and take care!

Kou-Kagerou: Hello my dear. Lookee at how early I've updated this month. I was in Louisiana for a week, lazing around in my friends apartment while she was at work with nothing to do but write. Happy to know you think the last chapter came out fine. I guess I should try to read the story as a whole. Then it might not seem as disjointed to me lol. I'm glad you noticed the slight maturation of Viole's character...slight... lol. I didn't want to forget about what they are actually doing in fighting Zaibach, so I figured someone should show the strain, why not Viole? Dilandau and Shesta's lesson was fun...for me lol! They got in trouble ;). Hah, on the "white tiger" bit. Oh...and thanks for pointing out the "foreshadowing" on Folken's part. Now I'm getting inquiries from people cough Nikkucough Aurebeccough (They're probably reading this so I thought I'd put their names in here ;) Hehehehehe!! Oh, I thought about the deleted scenes things...and I might do more of an "added" or "extended" scenes thing at the end, since I really did delete those scenes lol. Oops. Well, take care, thanks for reviewing and picking out the places I need to work on, and I hope you liked what I offered to you today. (You can tell me if you didn't..I won't cry lol). ;)

Tenshiamanda: Yes... I actually thought about not killing them. I came close to saving them when they all boarded the ship together, but then I thought...What would I do with them lol? Thanks for reviewing and take care! I hope you liked this chapter!

Nikku: Look, see! I said, Sunday, Monday, or Tuesday...it's Monday! Lol! I'm glad you're liking the way the relationships between the Slayers are evolving. I really want them to be extremely cozy with one another by the time they join Van's team in Astoria. I think I may be going overboard with the male bonding stuff though. But yeah, essentially Valeska screwed herself in the way she trained her men and now she'll never get the chance to fix it. Hehehe, glad you liked the bit with Dilandau kicking rocks at the squirrels. I hate squirrels. There nothing but fat rats with big fluffy tails I tell you! I'm trying to give Marie a bigger part and develop her character more. She's kind of fun, though as you can tell I don't really favor female lead characters. And you didn't have any reason at all to fear Dilandau's battle with Valeska. I knew he was gonna kick her butt all along ;). I couldn't let her beat my Dilandau...not yet anyway ;). Hehehe, and no, I don't plan on killing off my Dragonslayers anytime soon either. Yes...Van will eventually ask Folken about Dilandau... I'm looking forward to writing that awkward scene, hehehe. Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, thank you for always reviewing, and as always take care! :) :) :)

Namida: Lol! Well I'm glad you liked Folken in the last chapter. Maybe you'll like him more in the chapter to come lol. I hope you enjoyed the funny little scenes in this chapter too! Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Aurebec: You can give Folken a hug....just watch the metal arm thing (looks like it might hurt). The running water jokes, alas, have come to an end :( since Astoria will have running water and heated pools. Miguel is quite pleased with me now. (I had to do something nice for the kid since I keep torturing him). Happy to know you liked the DilandauShesta scene too. That scene was originally longer and I was going have Dilandau and Shesta have to make their own pot of salve...hehehehe, but I cut it before I was halfway through with it lol. I probably should have cut some of the stuff out of the beginning and middle too...but I didn't and here you are with a 20 page chapter lol! And see...Dilandau vs. Valeska wasn't so bad at all ;), not for Dilandau and the Dragonslayers anyway lol. Thanks for always reviewing and take care. I hope you liked this chapter!

Macky: Thanks! Eh.... I thought about saving the cats, but I just didn't have anything for them to do later in the plot. :) Thanks for reviewing and take care! Hope you liked this chapter!


	20. Chapter 19

Author's Note: Hi! Sorry about the tardiness of this chapter. I told someone last Sunday, but that was before I realized how soon last Sunday was and that I really didn't have much. I don't know about this chapter. I like it and I don't. I've probably deleted more scenes and rewritten more parts of it than I've done for any chapter. Well, I'll let you decide. I hope you like it. Oh... and for Reviewer Response, someone told me that authors who did them were being pulled off. So I'm gonna include the section for this chapter, but for the ones after please leave an e-mail address or signed review so I can respond to your feedback :).

Enjoy :)

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Chapter 19

_His vision was hazy, but he could just make out the distant outline of a small white manor against the crystal blue background of the sky. Large trees provided a natural fence for the big house, giving it shelter from the hot sun beating over head._

_What he wore was impractical for the heat. He could feel the sun's rays burning the bare skin of his arms and legs. Why in the world had he come outside dressed in short sleeves and... he gazed down at his legs briefly and did a double take... a skirt? He tried to raise his hands to rub his eyes and clear his sight– there had to be some mistake— but to his horror, he could not._

_Oh gods. He tried again and once again; nothing happened. What was happening to him? Where was he? All at once, he realized he wasn't familiar with his surroundings. How had he gotten here?_

_The Madoushi! Had they taken him again? It was the only explanation for..._

_Someone was speaking and he had to concentrate to decipher the words; it was as if he was listening through a funnel._

_"Celena, you're getting grass stains on your new dress! Honestly, I don't see why mother goes through the trouble to buy you anything new!"_

_Celena?_

_Dilandau's head turned--much to his absolute surprise for he hadn't issued the order-- toward the voice and his mouth opened to reply. The voice that came from his lips wasn't his._

_It was high and... female. Female? -- a little girl's voice to be more precise._

_"I don't know why either! I hate what she buys! I want pants like yours!"_

_"Little girls don't wear pants like mine. They wear dresses! Get up this instant!"_

_Dilandau couldn't even find the control to shiver. This was... eery. He had to be dreaming, but even in his dreams he could move, speak, something. Here, he was a spectator inside of... of Celena._

_Why inside of her?–why not beside her or better yet, why not be outside of the bubble all together and watch the dream play out remotely?_

_He was standing... or rather, Celena was standing, rising to her full height which wasn't impressive. From what Dilandau could see, they were very low to the ground. A tall boy with shoulder-length, golden hair was coming toward them, a stern expression on his handsome face._

_He grabbed Dilandau/Celena by the arm and whirled him/her around to stare at the backside of the dress. The boy groaned loudly in disgust. "I'm going to get in trouble for this, you know? You like doing this to me."_

_Dilandau/ Celena stood stock still in outrage as the dress was pulled over his/her head, ruffling his/her hair. Golden curls fell into their eyes. Golden curls?_

_Yes, Celena's hair had been blond, the same color as the boy's._

_The frilly white frock was held out for them to inspect. "Just look at that!"_

_Dilandau wanted to squint so that he could better focus on the bright green stains on the seat of the dress. Shake your head, Celena. You couldn't have possibly known how filthy you were getting a white outfit. Why didn't you put on something darker for playing in the grass?_

_"Mother should make you wash this yourself." The boy was shaking his head. "Come on, lets go inside and find you something else to..."_

_Suddenly Dilandau/Celena was bolting across the large grassy courtyard away from the indignant shouts of the tall boy. Wearing nothing but a baggy pair of bloomers, they turned cartwheels and did handstands, falling into the soft grass laughing loudly._

_Soft hands grabbed them around the naked waist and lifted them into the air. "You are a horrible little girl, Celena."_

_"I'm not a little girl today! I'm a little boy!"_

_The boy let out a long suffering sigh that sounded suspiciously like one of Dilandau's own. She was a little boy, huh? A quick look in the annoyingly large and itchy bloomers they were wearing could clear up that little ambiguity for her._

_Hm... Now Dilandau was curious. Maybe Celena knew something he did not. Perhaps she was a little boy; after all, he was, and he was inside of her for the moment being._

_"You are not a little boy." They were given a light shake. "I don't care if you want to be one."_

_Dilandau felt Celena pouting. "I'm more of a boy than you are!"_

_The boy snorted and at once, they were moving across the lawn, towards the fuzzy house. "I'll be sure to tell Mother that."_

_"You're a mean big brother, and I don't like you."_

_"Well, you're a bothersome little sister and I don't like you very much either," the boy said snootily. "I could have had a little brother instead, you know? You and he came out of Mother together, but you killed him. I think you were jealous."_

_Celena did not understand what was being said to her, but Dilandau seethed. How dare he say something like that to her...er...them!_

_"I have a little brother!" Celena blurted out before the rude boy could come up with anything else to say._

_Dilandau would have blinked, and he was almost positive the boy had._

_"No, you don't."_

_"I do too!"_

_"Where is he then?"_

_"He's in me, where you can't see him! He only talks to me, because he doesn't like you either! He thinks...he says..."_

_Dilandau was interested. Someone else was there besides him and he hadn't noticed? Hello?_

_The big house loomed before them, large and shadowy. The tall figure of a woman emerged and she came to stand on the porch. Dilandau studied her, wishing again that he could remove the dirty screen from his eyes. She was beautiful in a classic sort of way, her blond hair was bound back tightly in an elegant bun and her cornflower blue eyes were kind. She held out her arms for Celena._

_"Well look at you, my darling. I probably should have sent you out in only this in the first place. Look at that dress..."_

_They were kissed on both cheeks and held close. Celena rested her head on the woman's shoulder, inhaling her scent for Dilandau to memorize._

_Roses. The woman smelled of roses._

_How does she feel, Celena? Touch her face, her hair... Dilandau wanted to know this woman more than he wanted to know anyone in the world. Help me, Celena, help me..._

_His cloudy vision began to swim, making surrounding colors leak into one another until he could distinguish nothing. Milk and creme washed over him as he was torn from that world, from Celena, and thrown back into the waking world._

Shivering and confused, he sat up, gasping and clutching at the thick quilt wrapped around his body. My gods, what had that been?

"Lord Dilandau?"

Dilandau let go of the quilt, grimacing at the dull ache in his fingers from keeping

them curled for so long. Running trembling hands through slightly damp hair and pulling a thick strand of it to be sure of its silver color, he looked to who had spoken to him.

Miguel was sitting up on the bed beside him. He looked as if he'd been asleep; he had pillow creases on his face and his eyes were misty. "What's the matter?"

Was he able to speak? He didn't want to try and fail; the idea scared the hell out of him. "Lord Dilandau?"

Miguel sounded more awake now, concern flavoring his tone.

He had been Celena in the dream. She had been a part of him when the Madoushi had created him, but was it possible that he had been a part of her before it all happened?

That woman... gods, he knew her. He knew he did! She had this look about her that reminded Dilandau not only of Celena, but of himself. The shape of her face, the way her lashes curled... Even that boy had reminded him vaguely of himself in his posture and the way he held his chin.

His shivering intensified accompanied by waves of dizziness and nausea. He moaned inwardly. Not again. He felt Miguel crawling closer to him and placing a cool hand on his forehead. There was a slight intake of breath.

"Looks like we should have done a better job drying you off this afternoon..."

This afternoon? "This afternoon?" How the hell long had he.... "What time is it now?" He noticed for the first time how dim the room was. A single lantern cast light on both he and Miguel. He looked to the window to find the curtain drawn.

Miguel jumped and Dilandau almost laughed. "Gods, you scared me! It's after dark now. You fell asleep after we brought you in, and we couldn't wake you. We've already packed the Alseides and buried the Gorgons. Dallet even...well he knew how much you wanted him to at least go and talk with his parents, so he went to say goodbye. The village is waiting to see us off, but we can tell them to go back home. We shouldn't leave..."

Dilandau shook his head, very glad that Miguel was the one in the room with him. Miguel's calm voice was very grounding; it brought him from thoughts of dreams and discomfort to business. "Why shouldn't we leave?"

Miguel blinked, sitting back a bit and rubbing sleep from his slightly swollen eyes. Dilandau must have woken Miguel out of a deep sleep indeed. "You're not serious?"

Dilandau was silent.

"You're serious." Miguel frowned, then sighed softly. "All right then. I'll go and tell the others you're awake."

Dilandau watched him leave suspiciously. That had been much too easy. He threw back the blankets and swung his legs slowly over the side of the bed, trying to ignore the revolting feeling of weakness that coursed through every cell in his body.

He stood carefully and after steadying himself on the frame of the bed, he walked to the mirror, straightening his sticky clothing. He was still wearing the clothes Folken had thoroughly soaked.

I'm getting you back for this, Folken.

He glimpsed himself, sadly unimpressed by the thin, ghastly pale boy he saw. He had come to hate his reflection as of late, but he had to see. He studied his pale jaw, the shape of his eyes and the fringe of his lashes. He hadn't been hallucinating at all. The woman in his dream did favor him a bit.

Why?

His brow furrowed. There was a simple answer to the question, but his brain hurt too much to think about it, so he would ask Folken. Hm... and maybe Folken had discovered Celena's new location. He'd have to ask him about that too.

He wondered if Folken missed his questions? Probably so, or else he wouldn't have asked Dilandau to come to him. He shuddered to think about having to rub elbows with the likes of Allen Schezar and worse yet, Van Fanel–especially after he promised Folken he wouldn't lay a vengeful finger on him.

Damn promises.

He sighed and went to his closet, pulling open the sliding door and groaning at seeing all of his clothes gone–packed.

Well, where was his bag, because there was no way in hell he was showing up in Astoria looking like something the cat dragged in. He was about to storm to his door and yell for whoever had taken his things to return them, when he noticed a pair of pants and a shirt draped over his armchair.

He stopped mid-stride, changed directions, and marched to the chair. Thick, brown, cotton pants and a ruby long-sleeved shirt, they'd even left his brown boots out.

It was hard to be frustrated, when faced with such sentiment. Dilandau didn't like being treated like a child, but he also didn't feel like digging through a packed knapsack and putting together his own outfit. He peeled off his soggy clothes and grabbed a towel from the dresser to sponge the dampness from his body. He felt disgusting, but thoughts of a bath didn't bring him pleasure. He wouldn't have the time to heat the water, and he was too chilled to consider taking a cold bath.

The clothes slid on with little resistance. He was losing weight again. Folken wouldn't be pleased. Dilandau rolled his eyes as he could practically hear Folken's patronizing tone in his ears: 'Dilandau, you haven't been eating properly.'

Gods, he missed that voice.

Yes, Miguel, yes everyone who tried to argue with him that night, we are leaving for Astoria tonight. He gathered his wet clothes in one hand and looked scornfully at the state in which he was going to leave his room, but he didn't think he could straighten it up if he tried. This temporary energy boost from wanting to see Folken was going to get him to his Oreades and in the air. After that, auto pilot would kick in and he'd take another little nap.

Maybe he would get another chance to see through Celena's eyes. The thought put a dreamy smile on his lips as he went out to greet his Dragonslayers and what looked to be the entire village in the common area.

* * *

Enough with the dreams, enough with the coded messages... what do you want? What are you trying to tell me? Valeska was beside herself, pacing back and forth in her night clothes. The long satiny gown rustled between her legs as she took long strides. Stupid gown... Why did she wear it? She hated dresses and skirts, so why at night did she feel the need to be feminine? No one had ever reprimanded her for the way she dressed...

"_Little girls don't wear pants.... They wear dresses!"_

She twirled around, desperately seeking out the owner of the voice she'd heard. It was a familiar voice from her dreams, but she'd heard it aloud. She growled low in her throat. How she hated the wretched blond boy in her dreams. She even disliked the sweet woman who would hold and kiss her, because she tied ribbons in her hair.

For the love of the gods, ribbons!

She pulled at her hair, loosening it from its short braid. She paused in front of a full length mirror, glaring at the girl looking back at her.

You look like a mad woman, Valeska, the girl whispered.

"Because I am!" Valeska shrieked back. Gods...gods... she was mad. One day, two days, three had passed since she had returned to the floating fortress. Two days since her dressing down for losing so terribly to Dilandau and his Slayers, one day since the memorial of her Gorgons...

What would happen tomorrow? Would she get a new team? Would she be dismissed? How could they keep her?– she kept failing at everything they assigned and this time she'd lost her men, all of them. How had that happened? She'd trained them to perfection; there was no way they could have lost to the Dragonslayers, but they had.

And Dilandau– Dilandau had been a demon, just like Van. He was evil and... gods, what was this feeling? Whenever she thought of Dilandau, she got this rush, this exhilarating feel of... of... love?

Love? Valeska, in love with Dilandau? By the gods, she really was mad! She wanted to kill him. He had to die for killing her Gorgons, for scaring her...

Oh yes, she'd been scared of him. She was no longer ashamed to admit that to herself. He would have killed her, but something happened to his machine. It had shut itself off, it had looked like. Dilandau was...

There was that feeling!

Why? She was not attracted to Dilandau; she had never even seen him only heard of him! She gasped.

The mirror.

She'd looked into the mirror and instead of Valeska, she'd seen a handsome stranger as tall as herself with skin white as cream and eyes red as blood.

Dilandau? Was this Dilandau?

The image faded and only Valeska watched her from the looking glass. "Dilandau?" she spoke to the glass, trying to call him back. "Dilandau?" The boy ignored her summons.

Of course he had; he wasn't real! Valeska didn't know why she was letting such petty things as hallucinations bother her. After all, she was insane. Lunatics always saw things that weren't there. She ought to call someone in and instruct them to lock her up. Wouldn't they love to do that? Anyone on board would gladly volunteer to be the one to strap hateful Valeska down and swallow the key to her padded cell.

She was afraid she had no allies on board anymore without her men, and even they hadn't been truly faithful to her. She knew that they, if given the chance to betray her, surely would have. One of them would have gladly locked her away; so why did she care so much that they were gone?

It marked her failure, yes, but there was something else, something inside that told her she should care. They were her men and she should have loved them.

"_A Captain cannot be friends with his soldiers."_

"_That doesn't mean they can't like us."_

What? The voices had belonged to herself and another, the tone very familiar. Who had she been talking to and when? She had no reverie of the conversation. She was growling again, stalking about like a caged jungle cat. She had to get out of here. She was positive this place wasn't good for her. She was seeing things, hearing voices, having dreams, and experiencing feelings that were not her own.

Escape Valeska, you must escape, but to where? Where could she go?

Where They promised. Where you were three days ago. Go to Dilandau; you're supposed to be with Dilandau. He needs you!

Go to Dilandau? He needs me? For what? Did the demon need more blood to sacrifice? Valeska, you are a certified crazy.

They lied.

Who is They?

You're supposed to be with Dilandau, at his side.

What...IS... this? Valeska nearly tripped herself, stalking back to the mirror. She grabbed it, holding it with both hands on either side, ready to smash it and screamed.

Her eyes... her beautiful lavender eyes... were blue.

* * *

Folken really hadn't been expecting a reply to his invitation, so when Pearce told him Dilandau had sent a return message of acceptance, he'd been taken by surprise.

Dilandau was coming, on his way in fact, but Folken didn't know whether to be overjoyed or nervous. Dilandau's message had been friendly enough, but there was a short side note about sprinklers that both confused and worried him. Sprinklers? What in Gaea had Dilandau meant by that?

"Lord Folken, Sir Allen requests an audience with you. Shall I tell him you're busy?" Pearce had entered the room without knocking and was watching Folken stew in front of his bedroom window with an amused look on his face.

Folken raised an eyebrow at the man. "Is he making it seem like a life or death issue, or is it something I can put off?"

"He believes it's important sir; I don't know how important it actually is. Are you still pondering over Lord Dilandau's 'sprinklers?'"

Folken started then composed himself. "I wish I knew what he was talking about, because he certainly seemed to think that I would."

"I'll protect you, sir," Pearce chuckled. "Now... what to tell Sir Allen...?"

"Tell him nothing; I'll meet with him," Folken sighed. He adjusted his garments with a self-conscious frown. It was strange not wearing his robes, and the cape he'd been supplied with just wasn't the same. He couldn't hide his ugly metal arm as well in a simple cape... but the robes seemed to frighten people more than his arm did.

"You look fine, sir," Pearce said. "You had better not let Lord Dilandau catch you preening."

Folken sniffed. He was not preening! "Make what you want of my actions Pearce. Where is Sir Allen waiting for me?"

"In the small conference room," Pearce said. "He's alone."

Folken nodded, then narrowed his eyes slightly at Pearce for the last added bit of information. Why would he care if Schezar was alone or not?

Perhaps he thought Folken would assume Van was with Allen. The knight and his brother kept very close company. There was a strange tightness in his chest whenever he thought about that. Van followed Allen like he used to follow Folken when he was little. He sighed, well Van had to look up to someone, and Folken certainly hadn't been there to claim the position. He should be grateful to the knight for being there for his brother; in fact, he would thank Allen.

He was walking past Pearce as the irony of the situation he was in struck him. Allen was watching Folken's own little brother, and Folken was expecting the person who was as close to a little brother as Allen could get in a few days so that he could take him back under wing.

How would Allen react if he told him?

He wouldn't believe it, Folken was sure. The concept of Fate Alteration was a foreign thing to Allen Schezar, and if he didn't try to hit Folken, he'd have him discredited as a lunatic.

No, he wouldn't be telling Allen Schezar anything out of the ordinary. Besides, he hadn't even told Dilandau yet and was highly contemplating if he should. Dilandau wasn't very fond of Schezar even before he met the man. That confused Folken greatly, but he'd never made any inquiries on Dilandau's feelings. He'd had more important things to worry about.

He stopped before the heavy, wooden door of the conference room, knocking twice before entering without waiting for a reply. The blond knight sat in a high backed chair facing the door, his head snapped up from the book in his lap and he motioned for Folken to sit down with a nod.

Folken sat across from the man, not speaking until he was spoken to.

Allen raised a blond brow at him. "Are you sure you're related to Van?"

Folken blinked. "Why do you ask that?"

"You haven't demanded to know why I've called you here yet," Allen chuckled lightly, his blue eyes were friendly but held an undercurrent of seriousness that made Folken refrain from joining in on the merriment.

Not that he'd wanted to.

He remained silent, waiting for the knight to continue.

"King Aston and his advisors have accepted you and fully believe you've joined our side. They trust you and your judgment completely, but I'm not sure if I do. I'm not sure if I like you Folken. Weeks ago, I could have definitely told you that I did not, but...you've done some things for us that we couldn't have done on our own. I'm grateful for your assistance."

But... Folken was waiting for the "but."

"But when I was told that you recommended bringing in..."

"Captain Albatou?"

"Yes. I've met the man once before, and he was a... a... I cannot find a polite word to describe him. I cannot work with a person like that, nor have someone like that around my men. And his men, the Dragonslayers or what not... they're almost just as bad."

Allen trailed off, studying Folken's bland expression, his face doing an odd dance on the borderline of anger and puzzlement. Folken wanted to laugh at how like Dilandau he seemed then, in his expression, the way he held himself, and even the way he clenched his hands into fists.

"Am I amusing you, Strategos?"

Even the tone of voice. This was the first time he'd really experienced a close encounter of any kind with Allen Schezar where they sat and spoke and he'd had a chance to observe him.

"No, Sir Allen. I'm sorry if my silence upsets you. I was simply thinking of the proper response to give you. Do not worry about Dilandau; he will be under my supervision and I assure you that he and his men will behave themselves accordingly."

Allen scowled. "I doubt that..."

"The Dilandau you met and the one that will be coming to join us are two different people, Sir Allen. I cannot explain the change to you in words, so you will simply have to meet with him."

Allen's severe expression did not lighten. "If any harm should come to anyone under my care because of that... that madman, I _will_ hold you responsible! Do you find that amusing too?"

Folken blinked; he actually did, but he didn't dare say that. Any minute now he expected the blond man to throw something expensive and storm off in search of a box of matches and something flammable.

"No. I'm not teasing you. I am simply telling you that you have nothing to fear. So, if that's all...?"

"That is all," Allen said sharply. He looked back at the book in his lap rather pointedly, obviously dismissing Folken.

Folken rose, taking the dismissal in stride and fighting back a smile. He left the room, closing the door behind him. He wondered vaguely if Allen and Dilandau ever found themselves in the same room together for longer than a second, would they notice how similar they were in manner?

That would be amusing indeed.

Folken didn't hide the smile that blossomed on his lips outside of Allen's heated glare. He didn't know what it was about this place, but he smiled in this castle more than he had ever smiled anywhere in Zaibach.

The gods were trying to tell him something, but that something hurt him deeply. His place was with these people, outside of Zaibach, opposing it. Zaibach had given him life when the Fates had chosen death for him, but that life had been a mistake, an awful mistake.

He straightened his shoulders and lifted his head higher, shaking the dark thoughts away. What was done was done and it couldn't be changed. He would not waste his time dwelling on things no longer in his control. He'd fix what he could.

He just hoped it would be enough.

* * *

For the first time in his life, Van cared about what he wore. He'd actually requested new clothes to be tailored to fit him properly. He'd traded in his faded pants and ill-fitting shirts for fine satin garments. The onyx pants were lose, giving the illusion of more meat on his petite frame, and the dark blue color of his new long sleeved shirt brought out natural chocolate and strawberry highlights in his black hair. He tucked the tails of his shirt into his pants and fastened the silver buckle of a large black belt around his waist

Well, he wasn't handsome like Folken had been when he was his age, nor was he as glitzy as Allen, but he kind of looked like a prince now. Did he dare put on the cloak the maid had brought in? He eyed the high collared, black garment thoughtfully, before shaking his head. No, he'd look stupid, and he didn't want Dilandau thinking he was anything less than intelligent.

Argh!

Why had he thought that? He was NOT dressing up for Dilandau! It was high time he started dressing like a person of his stature. It just so happened the day he'd chosen to wear his new clothes was the day Dilandau was scheduled to arrive.

He was NOT trying to impress Dilandau...

Ok, so he was, but he was trying to convince himself of otherwise. Besides, what could Dilandau be impressed about? Van may have been wearing the outfit of a prince, but he was still short and gangly with unruly hair. Dilandau was beautiful and by all means could be the prince Van was pretending to be...er... the king Van was pretending to be. Why would he look at Van twice when he had people like Avenger to talk to?

And then there was the fact that Dilandau probably hated him and might even try to kill him when they were alone. Van shrugged that off. If Dilandau wanted to kill him, it was fine. At least it meant Dilandau was thinking about him.

Oh, he was sick, absolutely sick! How could he have gotten so disgustingly obsessed with one person? Maybe living with Dilandau would kill his crush. Hopefully so. He prayed Dilandau would repulse him and he could turn away from all thoughts of the pale boy smiling at him, speaking to him kindly... touching him... forever.

But then what would he do? The obsession had ruled him for so long he couldn't think of a single thing he would do in his free time. He was drawn from his pondering by a timid knock at his door.

Probably another maid. "It's open!" he called.

The door opened a crack and Hitomi poked her head in.

Oh crud! He should have asked who it was.

"Hi Van," Hitomi smiled at him uncertainly. "Can I... come in? I don't mean to bother you; I just... well we haven't talked in a while...and with..."

Van tried not to roll his eyes and schooled his annoyed expression into one of indifference. "Sure. Come in."

Hitomi stopped stuttering immediately, slipping into the room and shutting the door. Van sat on his bed, peering at her. She looked slightly flustered as she neared him and stood before him.

"You... um... look nice, Van. What's the occasion?"

Van frowned. There was NO occasion! "No occasion. I just felt it was time for a new look."

Hitomi bit her lip and after a short moment of silence, invited herself to sit on the bed beside Van. "Really, Van? Everyone's been really curious as to why you're getting all... as Allen's men call it, dolled up. Allen dismissed it, saying it's about time... but I..."

Van narrowed his eyes at her.

"I thought... Van, this, um, this isn't about my being with Allen is it?"

Van's mouth fell open in pure shock as he ogled her. Of all the things to come blurting out of her mouth... but he supposed he had liked her at some point, so maybe she did have reason to believe.... Hell no! He wanted to yell, but... what better way to explain his sudden change in appearance, since he was now fully aware that everyone was curious about it. If he wasn't dressing up for Hitomi, then who could he possibly be dressing up for? There were other girls in the palace besides her that he could be interested in, but who could he name?

Did he have to name one? He'd make it an intriguing mystery! He was so smart, he grinned to himself.

"No, it's not about you and Allen. Believe it or not, I'm happy for you two."

"Oh," Hitomi looked surprised and maybe a little...disappointed? Why? Hitomi had been so head-over-heels for Allen, why would she want Van's attention? "Well... who then? I know there has to be someone special."

Van gave her a light smile and shook his head. "I'm not telling her name. I don't want it getting out somehow. You know castle walls have ears."

Hitomi blushed and gave a strange giggle. "Er... yeah, but Van really, would it be so bad for someone to know? Maybe...maybe I could help you. I... kind of feel bad for ignoring you and hanging around Allen so much. I know it's been hard for you with... well, your brother around, and now that crazy from Zaibach–what's his name– coming here today. Allen thinks Folken's insane, but the Dryden won't hear anything about it. Have you thought about appointing some guards for your door at night?"

Van made a face at her. "I don't need guards. I'm not afraid of Dilandau or his men."

She doesn't even know his name. How can someone not know his name?

"Well I am. He almost killed you and Allen, Van! I did a reading last night, and the cards show me death. If those men come here, someone's going to die."

Well gee, Hitomi. There IS a war going on.

"I thought you weren't using the cards anymore, Hitomi," Van said.

"I...I'm not, but last night I... I don't know! Look, I just thought you might want someone to talk to, but since you're fine..."

Van frowned. Of course he was fine, he hadn't been acting anything but. Perhaps Hitomi was the one that wasn't. He studied her, from her large red-rimmed, green eyes to her trembling mouth.

"Hitomi..."

A trumpet blared, announcing guests at the castle gates.

They were there! Van sprang up from his bed, jogging past Hitomi. "We'll talk later, ok!"

He nearly ran into Allen in the hallway. "Sorry!"

Allen stared at him strangely, raising an eyebrow. "What are you in such a hurry for? Are you going out to meet Folken's guests?"

Van nodded, hoping he didn't look too excited.

"Then we'll go together," Allen said flatly. "Dryden's a fool for letting those boys into this palace without so much as a backward glance."

Van hid a smirk. It was no secret Allen couldn't stand Dryden and Dryden made a game out of pissing him off.

"I'm going to make sure that brother of yours does a good job of informing Dilandau of his place in this castle," Allen was saying and Van nodded along.

Just keep talking Allen, you're making the time it's taking us to get to the entrance pass me by that much faster.

* * *

"We've landed just outside the city walls. Is there anywhere in particular you want us to store our Alseides, Lord Folken? Oh, and is there a way we can get into the castle without being stared at? Lord Dilandau's asleep and when he wakes, he's probably going to be disoriented and won't want anyone to see him in that condition," Gatty was speaking mechanically, his brain shifting into automatic as exhaustion set in. The trip to Astoria had taken much longer than expected due to Zaibach patrols, unstable weather patterns, and low resources.

"Stay where you are; I see your location. Marie, Pearce, and I are coming out to meet you in a carriage." Folken's voice was tranquil as ever, but Gatty's tired mind thought it discerned a smidgen of worry in his tone. "How is Dilandau?"

Gatty sighed, resting his head for moment on the communications console before answering. "Not so good. Kinda scaring me. I don't know."

He says he's fine, but Gatty personally didn't believe throwing up everything one ingests, including water, was fine. Nor did he believe it was normal for a fever to last more than a day accompanied by temporary losses of consciousness when making sudden movements.

A beat went by before Folken finally said, "We'll be there shortly. Is there anything you need right away?"

"The only thing we need right now are beds, baths, and real food; the order doesn't really matter to me at this point."

Gatty earned a light chuckled from Folken and the transmission ended. He smiled at the small reward and nearly let himself drift into a light slumber. He was startled awake by a transmission from Shesta.

"What did Lord Folken say Gatty? I forgot to tap into the line."

Some second in charge you are, Gatty grouched inwardly, but then again, Shesta had been the one to volunteer to rouse Lord Dilandau. He had probably been making the transition from his Alseid to Lord Dilandau's Oreades.

"He said to wait here. He, Dr. Marie, and Pearce are coming out in a carriage to get us."

"Good," Shesta breathed. "How about getting into the castle? Can we do that without be seen?"

"He didn't say," Gatty answered. "Are you with Lord Dilandau?"

"Yeah. I don't think I want to wake him, Gatty. He looks... I don't know, like he's having a good dream or something. He's smiling. Think Pearce and Folken would carry him down?"

Gatty felt his head drooping forward and snapped back into the conversation. "Of course, but why would we ask them? We can do it just as easily as they could..."

"Gatty, as dead as we are, we'd drop him and ourselves. I barely made it from my Alseid up here. When I find a bed, I'm going to die in it."

Gatty smirked, "Likewise."

The console beeped, letting him know he had another call. "It's Dallet. I think one of us better make a general transmission now."

"You do it; you've got more information than me. I'm going to take a cat nap; wake me when they get here."

Shesta cut the transmission, leaving Gatty to stare at his blank viewing screen and beeping consoles. He turned the sound off and sat watching the blue call lights in a daze for a moment. Shesta was taking a nap, and it wasn't fair. Gatty deserved a nap more than Shesta did for leading the group on the trip from hell, but Gatty knew if he shut his eyes it would be for good.

After a long yawn, he opened communications to the public frequency. "Lord Folken's on his way with a carriage. He wants us to stay put. Make yourselves as pretty as you can, we're about to go in and hobnob with royalty."

"What?" Miguel squawked. "You can't be serious! Not looking like this! How predictable is this! Just because Astorians don't mind looking like greasy pigs when they first meet someone doesn't mean other people don't have finer..."

"Geez Miguel! Act like you haven't slept in over 32 hours! I could barely understand a word you said. Speak slower, simpler!" Viole complained.

"Viole, just because I don't use the vocabulary of an illiterate toddler..."

"Illiterate toddler? Is there a such thing? Toddlers don't read..."

"I did!"

"Well then, just cause you're a freak..."

"Gatty, requesting permission to shoot crima claws at Viole!"

"Gatty! You can't let him do that!"

"Oi, shut up!" Dallet shouted. "My gods, I can't wait to get out of here. If I never have to hear you two yammering away again, it'll be too soon!"

Gatty rolled his eyes. "Knock it off. Lock down your Alseides and meet on ground."

He switched off his communicator and prepared his systems for shut down without running a standard diagnostic. He'd deal with any technical difficulties after a few years of sleep. He descended from his Silver slowly, noting that everyone was already on ground but Shesta and Lord Dilandau.

"... will not share another room with you, you pest! And is that my shirt? I've been looking for that shirt! You said you hadn't seen it, you no good thief! You sticky-  
fingered..."

"Enough Miguel!" Gatty yelled. "You're not offending him in the least!" He waved a hand at Viole, who was rolling in the dirt, helpless with laughter. Miguel glared at Gatty through unkempt bangs and kicked at Viole.

Guimel had taken a seat on the sandy ground and had leaned his back against Dallet, who was still standing's, legs. Dallet's tired eyes watched Miguel and Viole's one-  
sided altercation disinterestedly.

"Did Shesta want us to help him with Lord Dilandau?" Dallet asked, eyes still on Viole's lithe form trying to escape Miguel's stomping feet.

"Shesta's taking a nap; says he doesn't want to disturb Lord Dilandau's sleep, and he thinks we'll drop him if we try to get him down. Folken will deal with it." Gatty moved closer to Dallet and Guimel, dropping his body down beside Guimel's. He nudged the other blond's knee and got no response.

Gatty glimpsed his face, Guimel's head was tilted back, resting on Dallet's locked knees. He had fallen asleep. Guimel could fall asleep anywhere in any position. Gatty brushed a curl off his friend's forehead and leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees.

He must have phased out for a little while, because next thing he knew he felt the vibration of hooves stamping across earth and heard Viole's joyful exclamation.

A large, white royal carriage approached them, bearing the crest of Astoria. It stopped a few feet away and the double doors opened. Folken stepped out, looking as tall and intimidating as ever followed by the red haired Dr. Marie, and the placid Pearce.

"Lord Folken." Gatty rose and gave a quick salute, as did Dallet, Miguel, and Viole. Dallet gave Guimel a light bump with his knee to rouse him.

"Hm..." Guimel mumbled, cracking open one eye and bolting into a standing position when he saw Folken.

"Greetings... you all look very...tired," Folken assessed.

"No shit?" Viole breathed and Miguel pushed him.

"Did you make any stops along the way?" Dr. Marie asked, frowning at them all. "You look awful. I think I'll check all you over once we get inside the castle. Where is your captain?"

Folken raised an inquiring brow as well.

"In his Oreades with Shesta. Shesta didn't want to wake him, and we didn't want to try to get him down."

Pearce snorted. "Wise choice."

Gatty blinked. He didn't think he'd ever heard that man speak when not ordered to.

Folken was walking to the base of Lord Dilandau's Oreades with Dr. Marie trailing behind him. Gatty supposed he should have gone along too, but he was just too damn tired. He flopped back down in the dirt, not surprised when Guimel and Dallet joined him.

Miguel looked longingly at the carriage. "When we get inside the castle, will we have to go through hours of formalities or will we get to rest, do you think?"

"Rest..." Guimel moaned. "I'd sell my soul for a pillow."

"Since when do you need pillows?"

"Since I got a crick in my neck from sleeping upright with my head slumping over to the side," Guimel complained.

"Want a massage?" Viole offered. "I'm pretty decent at it, I think. I've only had one complaint... ok, well maybe two..."

"Forget it, Viole. You're not touching my neck."

"Guimel, do you think I'd hurt you? I'll be very..."

"Oh look, they've got him, but I think he's awake," Dallet interrupted Viole, nodding towards the Oreades. The hatch was open and Folken was leading Lord Dilandau down the stairs in front with Pearce supporting him in back. Shesta climbed out after them, looking apprehensive.

"I guess we should get up," Gatty said, rather reluctant to leave his reclined position. He took the hand Miguel offered down to him and pulled himself up, then extended a hand to Guimel.

What a pitiful bunch they made as they stood, waiting for the others to join them. Lord Dilandau was dead on his feet; Folken was practically carrying him along. Gatty watched dully as Folken and Pearce placed Lord Dilandau carefully into the carriage, and then got in himself.

The carriage was roomy and very comfortable. The seats were large and soft. It felt like heaven, and Gatty was ashamed to say that he couldn't remember most of the carriage ride. The doors closed and so did his eyes. When he awoke, they were being escorted inside the palace.

They took a servant entrance to avoid the crowd of people gathering to catch a glimpse of the infamous ex-Dragonslayers of Zaibach. Gatty had no idea they were that famous amongst other people. He would have blushed, if his brain was functioning well enough for him to truly process what was happening.

"I've arranged for you all to room in the wing, Marie, Pearce, and I share. You'll each have your own private bedrooms with your own baths."

"Oh my gods, I've died and gone to heaven," Miguel was murmuring softly.

They walked up a steep flight of stairs and Gatty had to hold the railing to be sure he didn't topple down. He shot a sharp look to Folken to see how he was getting Lord Dilandau up the stairs. Oh...

He was carrying him.

"I know you all are anxious to get to bed, but Lord Dryden, the heir apparent, wants to meet with you all in the small throne room."

There was a collective groan that Gatty couldn't trace the source of, but felt himself chiming in just the same.

"I'll make sure it won't take long. It's just a necessary formality."

The stairway ended and they made a turn down a well lit corridor where Folken set Lord Dilandau on his feet at his whispered request. A few armed guards lined the hall and stood at attention as they ambled past.

Good grief, how we must look to these men...

Folken kept a tight arm around Lord Dilandau's waist, supporting him. "How are feeling, Dilandau? Can you meet with Dryden or should I have Marie and Pearce take you to your room?'

Lord Dilandau shook his head. "I'll meet with the man in charge. Can't insult royalty, now can I?"

Gatty smirked. He quickened his pace to walk alongside Lord Dilandau. The captain was sweating and trembling noticeably. All this Lord Dryden had to do was take a good look at him, and Gatty was sure he'd let Lord Dilandau pass on the meeting without feeling insulted at all.

Folken placed his hand on Lord Dilandau's chalky face and shut his eyes. "The meeting will be brief. Marie, can you go ahead and set up to draw blood in Dilandau's room? And Pearce, can you get someone to draw a cold bath for him?"

"What about the Alseides, sir?"

"They'll be all right. I'll have someone sent out to watch them later on."

"Yes sir."

Dr. Marie and Pearce separated for the group and ventured in the opposite direction down the hall.

The Slayers, led by Folken, seemed to walk for an eternity before they reached two massive double doors with two soldiers standing at attention. The soldiers nodded to Folken and then stood aside, pulling the doors open.

The throne room was much different from Gatty was used to in Zaibach. It was bright and cheery, and the walls were lined with many colorful tapestries. A rich red carpet led from the doors to the double thrones at the back of the room where two people sat, a man and woman. The woman was young and beautiful, her long blond hair falling over the shoulders of her elegant gown, and the man... well, he was different.

The royal couple rose as a unit, the man giving a toothy smile. "Greetings Dragonslayers or do you go by a different name now?"

"Who the hell's this guy?" Miguel murmured to no one in particular, but everyone wanted to kick him to keep from snickering.

"Dragonslayers is fine unless you think someone might take offense to that," Lord Dilandau pulled away from Folken, drawing strength from an unknown fountain inside himself. His lord never ceased to amaze him. "I am Captain Dilandau Albatou formerly of Zaibach, and my men and I are at your service."

The captain probably would have knelt if he thought he'd have the power to get back up from it. As it was, the heir apparent seemed not to notice nor care.

"I'm sure Lord Folken has already briefed you on the responsibilities being bestowed on you, but to please the King and certain other parties, I must force you to sit through a few ground rules."

Uh oh. Please don't make him angry...

"One: You must pledge your allegiance to Astoria and her King. Two: You will wear Astoria's colors in public and on the battlefield. Three: You will not participate in anything that might result in destroying, damaging, or desecrating the palace, its grounds, or anything else within the capitol city. Four: You will not participate in any events that may involve provoking others to destroy, damage or desecrate the palace, its grounds, or anything else within the capitol city. And lastly five: You are welcome here and I hope you enjoy your stay."

Gatty was in awe. The man had said all that in one breath in a span of 15 seconds. He topped any record Viole had set.

"My liege, I find your rules more than reasonable, so I accept them on my behalf and on the behalf of my men. I pledge my loyalty to you and this country for the duration of this war for we have a common enemy and there is strength in numbers." Lord Dilandau spoke in his most diplomatic tone, giving a slight bow.

"Lord Dryden, with your permission, I will give Captain Albatou his assignment in the morning," Folken stepped forward, staring at the tall man dressed in the colorful robes of a merchant.

"Sure, Lord Folken, you are dismissed. I trust you will show them all to their rooms?"

"Yes," Folken nodded.

"Great." Dryden smiled, rubbing his chin and glancing down at them from his higher vantage point. "You all look like you've seen better days. Maybe you should give them more than just a night to settle in Lord Folken. Now if we're done, I do believe we should open the doors and let Sir Allen in."

"Dryden!" the blond princess exclaimed. "You didn't!"

Dryden beamed. "I didn't lock him out per say, I just told the guards that if the doors were already closed when he arrived..."

"You're absolutely horrible," the princess said, not quite able to take on a tone of disapproval through the smile threatening to crack her face. "He's going to be livid!"

Dryden chuckled. "He may not even be here yet. Lets go see."

Dryden descended the short, carpeted stairway, taking his princess's arm. The royal couple stopped before them, giving polite bows and smiles before walking past to the large double doors.

"I don't know what I want to do first, take a proper bath or sleep," Miguel was pondering aloud.

"Only you would be concerned about a bath right now, Miguel," Gatty grumbled. "Bed for me." He moved forward to catch Lord Dilandau by the shoulders as he swayed a bit on his feet. "Bed for you too, sir."

Lord Dilandau gave a soft moan of discomfort. Sometimes it hurt when he was squeezed too hard; Gatty loosened his grip.

"I don't get bed. Folken means to make a pin cushion of me tonight."

Folken actually grinned and Gatty almost fell over. He caught the wide eyed, open mouth gapes the others were giving as well. Folken was grinning? He _could_ grin?

"You say that as if you think I'll enjoy it, Dilandau," Folken said. Gatty gave Lord Dilandau a light back rub, before giving him a push into Folken's awaiting arms. He normally liked being Lord Dilandau's anchor, but today he was in danger of falling over and he didn't want to take Lord Dilandau down with him.

"You probably will," Lord Dilandau said, leaning heavily on Folken. He looked up at the taller man, wine colored eyes a bit watery from pain and lack of rest. "I... I really don't feel good, Folken."

Gatty felt his stomach clench at hearing Lord Dilandau admit to not feeling well aloud and he felt Shesta shift closer to him. He felt the fine tremors of exhaustion and worry running through Shesta's body reverberating his own.

Lord Dilandau was going to be fine... just fine. Folken was here. Dr. Marie was here.

Lord Dilandau's going to be fine...

"I'll take care of you, Dilandau," Folken said reassuringly. He held Lord Dilandau a little tighter and the boy leaned a little more. "Come on, we're going to your rooms now. You all need rest."

They all began to walk as a unit, passing through the double doors as the royal couple had only to be intercepted by Sir Allen Schezar and his ever faithful stooge King Van Fanel.

Joy.

Did this mean they couldn't go to bed yet?

From the look on Sir Allen's face, Gatty predicted a negative answer to his question.

Damn.

* * *

Allen was infuriated by the sheer amount of traffic crowding the foyer area where the Dragonslayers had undoubtably been welcomed. Nosy peasants. He pushed through servants and common soldiers off duty, excusing himself but not really meaning it. He should have stationed himself in one of the towers today, so he could have spotted the Slayers before they'd even reached the gates.

Van followed on his heels, keeping up with Allen's long-legged stride astoundingly well. Allen bet Van was probably more anxious than he was to confront the Slayers, Dilandau in particular. After all, they'd burned his country, and according to Hitomi, Dilandau had personally tried to kill Van in a sword fight. Van always seemed vaguely guilty about the latter though.

"Hey Boss!"

Allen stopped abruptly at hearing his name and Van crashed into him from behind, forcing him to take a small step forward to avoid stumbling and looking clumsy. He turned his head slightly to skim the bland faced audience for the voice he'd heard.

Reeden suddenly stood beside him and Allen took in a sharp quiet breath at his sudden appearance. "What is it?"

"The Pretty Bastards and Lord Van's creepy brother are in the King's throne room already. Folken said he predicted the crowd that was going to gather, and he had those pansy boys already in route to the throne room before we knew they landed. Parked their fancy guymelefs out front though. They got some new ones for each of em' and they managed to drag in 5 more of the old ones we're used to seeing without pilots."

Allen pressed his lips together in silent outrage. Someone could have told him about the plans to meet with the Dragonslayers in the King's room instead of having him out there rubbing elbows with every palace servant and common man in the castle alike. He normally didn't mind mingling, but right then he had more important things to do.

"Thank you Reeden," Allen nodded to the man, then turned on his heel and marched right back through the crowd on a trek to the King's throne room, Van in tow.

"What do you think made everyone so interested in coming out to meet the Dragonslayers?" Van asked Allen, when they'd freed themselves of the crowds and ventured down the unpopulated back hallways.

"They're nosy. Most people who work in palaces make it their business to know everything that goes on inside."

"Is that so?" Van hummed, not really sounding interested in Allen's answer at all. Allen tossed a look over his shoulder at the boy, noting his sharp choice of dress with approval. It was about time the boy started dressing like a lord, but why now? His thoughts flashed briefly to Hitomi, wondering if she had anything to do with the change. Allen always suspected the boy may have been jealous of Hitomi's choosing Allen over him, but that had been weeks ago... and well... Frankly, Allen didn't think his and Hitomi's relationship was anything to covet. Sure he liked the girl, but when he really evaluated the nature of the relationship he found himself wondering why he'd ever pursued it. Perhaps it was because of Millerna and Dryden...

No, no, he shook his head. Millerna had been a dream. He never could have been with her, not after Marlene and especially not after that conversation with Eries that he'd had many nights ago.

So if it hadn't spurred from rebound, then what had pushed him that day to kiss her? He shuddered lightly, shaking his head. Whatever; the relationship would be over soon enough. He had no intentions of leading the girl on any further, and Van could have her. If, of course, that was indeed what he wanted, but looking at the lad, Allen didn't quite think so. Something or someone else had his attention as of late, not even as of late, but for a while. What Allen had always assumed was a crush on the girl from the Mystic Moon was and had probably always been a crush on someone else.

Who? he wondered. A light smile shaped his lips, and his dark mood brightened a bit. It was nice to have something as normal as a mystery crush going on in the midst of so much chaos. He would have to encourage the boy to come to him about this. He could give him some pointers.

Two guards stood idle at the entrance of the throne room, quickly snapping to attention and saluting at the sight of Allen and Van. Allen saluted back and waited for them to open the doors. Strangely, they did not.

"Lord Dryden is already in meeting with Lord Folken and his charges. He asked not to be disturbed."

Allen saw red. He asked not be disturbed! But who did he think would disturb him besides Allen, who he knew would get there late because he wouldn't have known where the meeting was to take place!

He wished he was alone so he could kick something. Damn Dryden! He and that bastard Folken had gotten together on this and conspired against him!

"Allen?"

Van was frowning at him and Allen imagined the look on his face must have been quite interesting.

"Yes, Van?"

"We can just wait for them to come out. Dryden wouldn't have let you speak anyway. You can request a private meeting."

Allen narrowed his eyes. That sounded perfectly sound and rational, but that wasn't what Allen wanted right then. He wanted to kick in the doors and slap the stupid smirk he knew would be residing on Dryden's long face right off, along with those dumb glasses of his.

"That's a fine idea, Van. We'll wait."

He'd given the more appropriate answer, but from the odd way Van was eyeing him, he was sure his face betrayed his inner desires.

"What are you planning on saying to them anyway?" Van asked as he and Allen quietly took plush leather chairs against the wall.

Allen sighed, careful not to slouch in the chair. He didn't know. Something along the lines of, if you bring about the destruction of this castle I'll show you no mercy? He was more concerned over the fact that he didn't know how these people operated and how they were going to effect his daily schedule. Dryden said they were being brought in to train or retrain soldiers and to enhance Astoria's defenses. It was pure arrogance on Folken's part to believe that these _boys_ from Zaibach were so much better than the Astorian forces that they could train them. Grown men to be trained by boys, please. And Dryden, what a fool for obliging him! True, Dilandau and his men were good, but they were not any better than Allen and his crew.

Allen could train soldiers as well as anyone. Why wasn't he given the job? He hadn't even been alerted that training was an issue until recently.

The doors were opening and casual chatting could be heard. Dryden was exiting with Millerna in tow, looking quite pleased with himself. He dimpled at Allen as they passed.

"Good afternoon, Allen," Millerna said politely, "Van." She and Dryden resumed their conversation, giggling amongst themselves and turning away from Allen and Van to proceed on down the hall.

Millerna hadn't so much as winked at him and her smile had been warm, but superficial, the kind she'd give to anyone. Allen wanted to chase after them, yank Dryden's ridiculous ponytail and take Millerna by the hand to ask why she was ignoring him.

Well Allen, the girl is married now; she can't very well flirt with you like she used to, especially not in her husband's presence. But when had she and Dryden gotten so comfortable with one another? They were... giggling and talking about something too important for her to even blush in Allen's presence.

Jealousy was not a pretty thing, so Allen was not jealous. He had Hitomi after all... Folken emerged with Dilandau at his side followed by six other young boys, some of their faces he knew better than others. Hadn't there been more of them?

He cleared his throat as they attempted to walk past him and they stopped.

"I'd like to meet with you all in my quarters, if you don't mind," Allen said firmly, meeting Folken's eyes and holding them. This is not a request, he made his body language broadcast in the rigidness of his posture and the steel set of his face and eyes.

"Sir Allen, I do apologize, but my wards have had a very long trip, and they are very tired. All briefing for them will be taking place tomorrow by approval of the heir apparent; therefore, all business meetings will be postponed until tomorrow as well." Folken stared Allen down, not backing away from his intimidating stare.

Allen choked back a growl.

Dilandau was silent at Folken's side, and Allen was a little surprised. The boy liked to jeer and taunt and tease. Why was he being so quiet? Looking more closely at him, Allen noted the deep lines of exhaustion in his young face and the dark hollows beneath his eyes. The friendly arm Folken kept around his waist seemed to be all that was keeping the boy upright.

The others looked to be in better shape than their captain, but not by much. What Folken had said was true, but it didn't help to appease Allen's frustration at not getting what he wanted–ever!

"Fine," Allen said with a sigh. "Fine, we'll meet tomorrow. I want to talk about your positions anyway, and it will be better if we do it after you learn what they actually are."

"Good day, Sir Allen," Folken said smoothly, turning with Dilandau and his new charges in tow.

Grumbling to himself and making sure Van was following him, Allen completely missed Dilandau's collapse and Folken's swift dip to catch him.

* * *

Author's Note: So what's the verdict? Like it?-Hate it?- Don't care either way? Let me know! Please review! Just in case you didn't catch the Author's Note, someone told me fan fiction. net is pulling authors who give reviewer responses (They just keep getting weirder, soon we won't even be able to leave reviews!). So anyway for future chapters, including this one, please leave an e-mail address or signed review so I can respond to your feedback :). Thanks!

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Reviewer Responses:

FettoIsiris: Lol! An A? I haven't gotten one of those since high school. Thank you! I'm really picky about what I read too, so I'm honored I got your attention lol. I hope you read and enjoyed the new chapter. Thank you for reviewing and I hope to hear from you again! Take care!

Pocketfirefairy: Lol, so you'll never tell me to stop. Ever? Lol, ok. I hope you liked this chapter girl; thanks for reviewing! Take care!

Jhaylin: I think I like the action chapters most of all, but they are so few and far between. I'll have to fix that in the upcoming chapters :) I'm glad you found Dilandau's predicament amusing. I'm still trying to figure out what he's going to do to Folken to get even :). I hope you liked the update! Thank you for reviewing and take care!

Kaitourei: Lol, and I thought I was going too far with the acne line! It came out of no where and I had to type it ;). I'm happy you liked the scene between Dilandau and Valeska. It was fun to write and I look forward to writing more confrontations between them. Yes, Miguel is happy to get a decent bath in Astoria, but he won't be thrilled with present company ;). Dilandau's confrontation with Folken will fully take place in the next chapter when he's a little more coherent :). Yes, Van is obsessing. Will this be yaoi? We'll find out together lol! Thank you so much for reviewing and take care! Hope you liked the chapter!

Kou-Kagerou: Hello! This chapter is 21 pages, and it didn't even take a trip to Louisiana to get it lol. Though another out of state trip might have made it come out a bit faster. Maybe I'll come visit you, lol ;). You didn't find ANYTHING to correct? Whoa... well get out the red pen for this chapter lol. I wrote it in so many different sittings and did the brunt of my editing late, late at night.

No, I don't think Folken and Pearce would have liked the stuff served at the Slayers' party, lol. I don't think anyone would like it actually (except my crazy, lush of an ex-roommate). Drunk Miguel's are funny; I'm gonna have to get him sloshed again and put him in an embarrassing situation. Oh, I actually saved my deleted scenes and revealed in one is the fact that Guimel DOES have higher tolerance ;). And I agree with you; I wouldn't have wanted to be that slapped Dilandau awake either lol.

The fight between Dilandau and Valeska was fun, and I can't wait for another encounter either. The taunting amused me a little too much I think, though. No! I have not forgotten about the transfusion Dilandau needs or his current state of health. In the village, he was feeling a bit better, but most of it was show for his Slayers ;). To keep the story moving, I neglected that subject a bit, sorry about that. I already e-mailed you about the last part of your review ;).

Ok, I think that about covers it. Damn look at this response lol. It's a chapter in itself. Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter; I look forward to getting your input, and maybe we'll chat again sometime! Take care! Thank you for reviewing :)

Macky: Thank you so very much. I hope you liked the continuation. Thanks for reviewing! Take care!

Nikku: Lol, look! See! It's up! Lol! I am so very sorry, impatient one; I know I told you Sunday, then Monday, the Tuesday, and now it's Friday. I hope that answered question made it up to you :). Why is Miguel dancing so funny? Do you think he can't? Lol... hmm..now that I think about it, hehehehhe! Well, he dances better than Viole ;). The line between commander and soldiers is virtually gone lol, except in battle. One of these days, they'll stop calling him "Lord."

Sorry about the lack of Viole/Miguel. I'm afraid there wasn't room for much of it in this chapter either. I hope the bickering was enough to tide you over until next chapter. Van's conversation with Folken on Dilandau isn't going to be as amusing as... Oh wait, can't tell you that (Muhahaha!). And no, Guimel slapping Dilandau was very brave, hehehe! He won't be doing it again anytime soon though.

Glad you liked the battle. Valeska was a little disappointing when put up against Dilandau; maybe she'll do better next time ;).

Folken's method of control was common sense lol. He's one of those geniuses that got the best of both worlds in some respect, lol.

Well, I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and it was worth the wait. It did end up being 22 pages :) Take care and thank you for reviewing and sending me "annoying" e-mails ;) lol!

Skippys Cat: Glad you like long chapters, because this one turned out to be rather lengthy too. I didn't think it would be quiet as long as the others until last night actually lol. But I guess if I take a month to update, it's only fair for the chapters to be a bit longer ;).

Did the wine taste like battery acid?– Bet battery acid tastes a bit better. Potent as Everclear?– Haha! Probably so!

Emperor Dumbshit? Isn't that his name? ;)

Glad you liked the strategy meeting. It was rather unconventional, but they got things accomplished.

You're mean!-- Laughing at Dilandau's misfortunes like that! If you couldn't find your hands, you'd worry too, lol! Yes, it's a good thing for he and Folken to reunite. I don't think the Slayers could have dealt with Dilandau's problems for much longer on their own.

Yes, Folken is going to hear about his "Dilly safety" devices lol. That will be fun. And no, Valeska is one of those people that have to have things beaten into them time and time again. Yes, Zaibach has hit an all time low, lol!

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I love hearing from you! Take care and thank you for reviewing!

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	21. Chapter 20

Author's Note: I thought I was never going to finish this. I just couldn't decide where I wanted to start this chapter, end it, or what I wanted to happen in it. I think I'm trying to build too many relationships lol. Anyways, a friend suggested to me that I should write some one-shots about the Dragonslayer and things that could happen to them in Astoria in between Severed chapters. I think it sounds like fun and I'm open to suggestions. Just let me know what you'd want to hear about. I'm going to post the stories separately from Severed though, so you'll have to look for them if you want to read them :). Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter. I apologize for it being another long filler chapter, but I couldn't write the fun chapters to come without this one.

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Chapter 20

"Ouch!"

"I haven't inserted the line yet, Dilandau," Folken said dryly, gazing at his bed bound charge patiently. "I will tell you when you can complain. Now hold still or I'll miss the vein."

Dilandau glared at Folken while trying to remain as immobile as possible. He wasn't about to give Folken any excuses for puncturing an artery. The ex-Strategos had him relax his hand on the cool fabric of the heavy quilt he laid upon as he tapped his veins, looking for the perfect spot to insert a needle.

After taking nearly a gallon of blood... well, maybe not that much, but almost!... Folken and Marie had put their heads together, frowning at him and deciding he was dehydrated.

A soft hand ghosted over his brow again, and Dilandau inhaled the sweet scent of vanilla that accompanied Marie's presence and swallowed against the nausea it enhanced. "You're significantly cooler; feeling any better?"

The red-head sat on the side of his large poster bed, scowling at Folken's work before turning her attention back to him and raising an inquiring brow.

"I'd feel better, if you two would quit poking me-- Ouch!"

"Dilandau, I haven't even broken the skin!"

"Give it here, Folken; let a professional do the job," Marie said snidely, relieving Folken of the needle and line and taking his place on the floor as he stood.

Dilandau shut his eyes briefly as he felt the sharp prick of the needle entering his flesh then watched Folken as he checked the line and the bag of liquid hanging from a slim silver pole. "You'll feel better in the morning, Dilandau."

"Yeah... sure." He would feel better, but not well.

"I think tomorrow, we should insert an IV port. It'll be easier on you. That way we won't have to keep sticking you, whenever you need something special," Marie said, ruffling his hair lightly.

Dilandau shook his head. "No way. I don't want anything stuck to me all the time."

"Dilandau, it'd just be in your hand; you'll never notice..."

"Where people can see it?!" Dilandau exclaimed. "Hell no! I'm not walking around Astoria with something like that on me! Bad enough I... I...ugh... I can't believe I fainted. You're absolutely sure no one saw?"

Folken rolled his eyes and Marie covered her mouth, muffling a sound that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. "No one saw us, Dilandau, not even Allen Schezar. He'd turned to leave when it happened."

Dilandau groaned. Allen Schezar. What an ass, and didn't Dilandau have a meeting with him in the morning? He wondered what the knight could possibly want to talk to him about. He hoped it wasn't anything dull and repetitive. _If you do anything hurtful to Astoria and, or her people I will come after you with everything I've got_.

Well come on, Allen. I've yet to see what all you have, but the little you did expose didn't impress me.

"....Dilandau?"

"Hm?" Dilandau shook himself out of fantasy and gazed at Folken and Marie who were staring at him oddly. "What?"

"We were talking about your treatment and you said something about 'impressions.' Are you alright? Folken, what did you put in that IV?"

"Electrolytes."

Marie blinked at Folken's dull answer and made a face. "Either make a joke or let rhetorical questions go unanswered! Dilandau, we were telling you about what we can do for your condition."

Dilandau tried to sit up a bit straighter, but the fluffy pillows behind him didn't provide enough support for that. If anything, he ended up sinking further back into them. Damn, if he wasn't so tired, he wouldn't need pillows to prop him up.

"Do you want to hear this tonight, or are you too sleepy right now?"

Sleepy was an understatement. He was dead, but he realized that he'd never heard a clear explanation of what exactly was wrong with him. He wouldn't rest comfortably at all with his diagnosis hanging over his head as an element about to be unveiled. "Tell me, now."

Folken and Marie looked at one another briefly, silently debating who should be the one to talk. Folken nodded at Marie to proceed and folded his arms over his chest.

"You have a disorder known as aplastic anemia," Marie began gently, studying him with a concerned frown. "It means that your bone marrow is having trouble producing red and white blood cells and platelets. It's caused by exposure to chemicals or radiation. In your case, it was caused by chemicals. Whatever the Sorcerers have been pumping into your body and what Folken and I gave you to combat your overreaction to stimulation combined and had an adverse affect on your system."

Dilandau glowered, tilting his head to study the pair before him. "Are you telling me that I wouldn't be this sick, if I'd refused your treatment from the start?"

Folken flinched then regained his composure. "We wouldn't know, because you'd be dead right now, if you hadn't accepted our help. Do you know how many heart attacks and strokes we probably prevented? You remember how much pain you used to be in, don't you?"

Dilandau narrowed his eyes, but nodded. It had been frightening too, and the loss of control had been disconcerting, but he needn't add more to Folken's argument. Besides... "Is this really any better? I'm borderline useless most of the time."

"But you're alive, and we can keep trying to fix you," Marie said, trying to smile and trying to make him smile. After failing miserably, she sighed. "Folken and I have a treatment plan for you."

"I'm not taking any more drugs." Drugs had created the problem. The tremors were returning and he wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath the blankets under him.

"We don't want to give you anymore, either," Folken said quickly. "Now that we can monitor you, chemicals are no longer a necessity." The tall man leaned over the bed, carefully sliding the quilts out from under Dilandau's prone form and pulling them over his legs. Shakily, Dilandau grabbed at the cottony covers, tugging them up to his chin, grimacing at the bite of the IV needle as he flexed his hand too much.

"What do you want to do?"

"A transfusion, Dilandau. We've already started conducting blood tests on willing Astorian soldiers and we want to get blood samples from your men."

Dilandau blinked and blinked again. "A blood transfusion?" That required the use of a lot of needles and... blood from someone else. He cringed. "Folken, you'd consider giving me blood from a stranger?"

"I'll screen the blood carefully. It's quite safe, but I'd actually prefer the blood to come from one of your men. At least they can give me decent catalogues of where they've been and what they've been exposed to."

Dilandau shuddered.

"Dilandau, it's a common procedure. Nothing to be worried about," Folken tried to assure him. In a soft voice, he added almost hesitantly, "But, you don't have to go through with it. No one's forcing you to do anything. You can choose not to be treated."

"And what will happen to me then?" Dilandau asked wryly, staring at the red canopy overhead in distaste. I'll die; he's going to tell me that I'll die, but it's my choice whether I do so silently or not.

Folken didn't answer him; he, instead, ran a tender hand through Dilandau's hair. "You should get some sleep, Dilandau. We can talk more in the morning. No decisions have to be made now."

Dilandau felt a flutter of panic at the thinly veiled grief in Folken's eyes. Good gods... He knew he wasn't going to live forever, but there was no way in hell he was ready to keel over now! "Folken, how long will I have, if I choose not to be treated?"

"Not tonight, Dilandau, please," Folken's voice was strained, and his head was bowed so that his eyes were hidden from Dilandau's view.

"I should go," Marie excused herself, and Dilandau's head flicked toward her. He'd forgotten she was there. The woman slipped out of the room, closing the door silently behind her.

Dilandau felt a large depression in the bed as Folken sat down. "Folken?"

"Yes?"

"Lets say I declined your invitation to come to Astoria, how long would you give me?" Dilandau struggled to roll onto his side so he could prop himself up on an elbow. He wanted to see Folken's face as he spoke. He needed to see his eyes. "A year perhaps, to get my affairs in order and all?" A year... Gods... Would he have had enough by then? Would he be ready to die?

No response.

"Not quite a year; months?" He was going to throw up.

"Dilandau, stop it," Folken uttered hoarsely, and Dilandau started fearfully.

"Dammit, Folken, do I even have months now? How positive are you that this blood transfusion of yours is going to work, and if it does, how much more time will it buy me?"

"It won't buy you time; it'll save you, not if, but when it works. All we need is a matching donor for you, Dilandau." Folken's voice was still soft, but what it lacked in sound it gained in intensity. Slowly Folken rose from the bed and began tucking him in, letting Dilandau see his eyes.

They were full of such sadness and a fire that rivaled Dilandau's own in battle. "You're not going to die, Dilandau, not if you let me help you."

Much of Dilandau's fear dissipated by simply gazing upon Folken and seeing his passion. The man truly believed that there was something he could do.

If Folken says he can help, I trust him or else I wouldn't have come.

"Funny," Dilandau smirked wanly, wondering what his own eyes reflected, "I thought I was here to help you."

"You are," Folken whispered, taking the hand with the IV and setting it above the covers. "Are you comfortable?"

Dilandau nodded. The bed was warm and soft and he could already feel himself drifting away. He clutched to wakefulness, not wanting to end his conversation with Folken quite yet; after all, they were discussing his future.

"Good." Folken stepped away from the bed, shutting the drapes and blowing out the decorative candles that Marie had lit around the room, when she discovered they were cherry scented.

"Folken..."

"Hm?"

"... if you really think a transfusion will work, I'm game."

Folken hovered over the last candle, the tiny flame casting an odd shadow on his face. Dilandau thought he saw a fleeting smile on Folken's lips, before they poised themselves to blow out the final flame.

The only light left came from the small lantern on the bedside table.

"How long do you think it will take to find a match for me?"

"Hopefully not long at all. Somebody in this palace has to have your blood type," Folken said, hand on the lantern, fingers questing for the knob to dim its light.

"Ok."

The room went dark and Dilandau could hear Folken's light steps toward the door. "Folken?"

"Go to sleep, Dilandau."

"I know someone who has my blood type."

"Who?" The door to his room was opened and Folken's lean form was illuminated by hall lights.

"Celena. Did you ever find out more about her, Folken?"

The slight hesitation on Folken's part made Dilandau want to sit up straight. "Not really, Dilandau. I still don't know her whereabouts."

"But you know something, right?"

"In the morning, Dilandau. Sleep."

"Folken?"

"Dilandau, I'm about to give you a sedative."

"Goodnight." Dilandau smirked in the darkness. He had almost forgotten how much fun irritating Folken was.

"Goodnight, Dilandau. My room is right across the hall should you need anything." The door closed and Dilandau let out a sigh.

He was alone in the dark, in a strange place, while pondering his own body's betrayal, but strangely enough, he was calm. His men were resting peacefully in comfortable rooms nearby, Folken was close at hand, even thoughts of Marie and Pearce warmed him. He was... home, and home wasn't a place to him, but a feeling.

The only things missing were Celena and the beautiful woman that smelled of roses, but as soon as he closed his eyes, that room in his home would be filled too. He felt his lashes brush his cheeks and he relaxed, surrendering himself to dreams and forgetting about woes of tomorrow.

* * *

Miguel didn't know what he enjoyed more, envisioning himself sitting in the tub of clean, hot water softly scented with jasmine flavored bath oils, or just turning the knobs and listening to the water pour from the tap. He had a tap!

The miracle of running water was his to behold again!

Gatty's room was right beside his bathroom, and he'd knocked on the wall after the 10th time Miguel had started and stopped his bath water.

The Astorians needed to work a bit harder on their plumbing skills; the groan of the pipes was rather obnoxious. Miguel giggled giddily and ran more water into his bath.

_Bap! Bap!_

Stuff it, Gatty!

He rose from his kneel before the porcelain tub and backtracked across the marble of the bathroom floor to the toilet. A toilet!

He gave it a flush and laughed in delight as the water swirled round and round the bowl before disappearing in the large drain at the bottom.

Beautiful!

He twirled, letting his royal blue bathrobe waft about him like an elegant ball gown. Hah! A ball gown... well, it could be appropriate. After all, he was once again in a place where real nobles dwelled. He could go to Court again.

Gods, he needed a suit.

He supposed he could go to market to get one, or maybe he'd go to a tailor... He spun until he was dizzy and put down the lid on the commode so he could sit and observe the world that continued to turn without him.

"Geez, Miguel, if you were bored all you had to do was say so. I'm right next door."

Viole!

"Oh no..." Miguel moaned, covering his eyes and slumping on his porcelain throne. "Don't you have something to do?"

Viole chuckled from the doorway he leaned in and moved toward Miguel. "Yeah, I've got a meeting with Allen Schezar this morning."

Miguel made a face, uncovering his eyes and gazing back at the lavender bubbles lounging on top of clean, steamy water. "Why in the world would you want to meet with that jack-as... Oh! Oh gods, the meeting! Viole, why didn't you come in sooner and remind me!"

"Well," Viole smirked at Miguel in his pretty bathrobe, "I really didn't think that you would forget, but after listening to you play with the tabs for two hours, I figured I'd better come in and break up the love affair. Man, Miguel, that sure was a great dance you were doing. Show me how, huh? Didn't it go a little something like..." Viole began to twirl and Miguel stuck out his foot to trip him.

It was not a good idea to trip someone wearing boots with your bare feet, Miguel learned quickly as his big toe was trampled by a stumbling Viole.

"Ow, you dimwit! That was my toe!" Miguel doubled over, holding his toe and wondering if he dared to kiss it with Viole standing there ready to mock him. Viole caught his balance on the marble sink, snickering into the artfully carved bowl.

"Go ahead and kiss your tootsie, Miguel. I know you want to. I've seen you smooch ouchies before."

Miguel glared and set his throbbing foot back onto the floor, thankful for the coolness of the marble. "Get out, Viole!"

"Oi, Miguel! I can't come back out without you; we gotta go to the meeting!" Viole straightened up, pulling faces at his reflection in the large shell-shaped mirror. "How come you get a mirror shaped like a clam? I got a dumb fish!"

Miguel rolled his eyes as he dropped his bathrobe and stood in front of Viole in his undershorts. "Out!" He gestured to the open door with his thumb. "I'll be out in 10 minutes."

"But Miguel... everyone's waiting..."

"Ten minutes!" Miguel shoved Viole out of the room, feeling a small amount of satisfaction in hearing the surprised squeal his comrade let out as he sailed from the lavatory.

Ten minutes. He looked at his bath sadly, sorry that he had to waste something so lovely by rushing it. Slipping off his shorts, he stepped into the bath and scrubbed as hard as he could as quickly as possible.

Gods... he felt a month's worth of dirt coming off his skin. The water turned milky with soap residue and Miguel relaxed in the tub, letting his head slide under water and massaging his scalp.

It felt so good.

Would Allen Schezar even notice he was missing?

Probably so. Miguel's was possibly the only face the man really knew, well aside from Lord Dilandau's. He growled to himself and sat up, running his hands over his face and wiping water out of his eyes. He was tempted to lie back and bask, but a knock on the door and Viole's whistling made him stand up. Grabbing a fluffy beige towel hanging on a low golden rack, he dried himself in front of the mirror.

"Miguel! It's been 10 minutes!"

"It has not!" Miguel snapped, voice muffled from the towel over his face as he dried it. "I'll tell you when it's been 10 minutes, Viole!"

"There's no clock in there, Miguel, but there's one here with me..."

Miguel gritted his teeth and concentrated on the task of drying himself and getting... oh damn. His clothes were laying on his bed... with Viole. They'd decided it would be a bad idea to wear Zaibach armor while residing in Astoria the previous night, and Miguel had taken extra care in selecting just the right thing to wear that morning.

Great.

There was no way in Hades he was going to ask Viole to bring his clothes. He shuddered to think what the idiot would do to his clothing or what stupid joke he would tell as he handed the garments over.

Pulling his robe back on and tying the sash at the waist, Miguel opened the bathroom door and strode out proudly, only to be met with an audience!

"Nice legs, Miguel," Guimel snorted, lounging on Miguel's large poster bed and smirking in outright amusement.

"I must agree," Shesta chuckled.

Guimel, Shesta, Dallet, and Viole, populated his bed, Viole sitting cross-legged on the outfit he planned to wear for the day. As if it wasn't wrinkled enough! "Get off, Viole! You oaf!"

Viole's eyes widened in mock indignation. "Name calling this early in the morning is inappropriate, Miguel. Just what have I done to deserve such an insult to my person?"

Miguel's face burned and he surged forward to seize Viole roughly by the arm and tugged him from his bed, dropping him to the floor and grabbing up the crumpled shirt and pants set. Miguel shook his clothes, frowning at the wrinkles that refused to fall out and glaring at a cackling Viole.

"Easy, Miguel," Dallet cooed. "Those are the kind of wrinkles you can wear out."

"Yeah, so get dressed. I'm tired of looking at your naked..."

Miguel whipped around, pulling his robe closed tighter around him and glaring at Guimel whose lazy smirk had widened into a wicked grin.

"Stop looking then!" Miguel snapped, folding his clothes over one arm while holding his robe closed and marching back into the bathroom.

He got dressed fairly quickly, checking himself in the mirror and scowling at his rumpled appearance.

I look like I've just come from a poor country town.

His friends were chatting away merrily outside his room. It sounded like Gatty had joined them... and Lord Dilandau?

Perfect, now he had to go outside. Clicking off the light– electricity, he had electricity!– he stepped out of the bathroom. Lord Dilandau was slumped in the high-backed, easy chair by the window, staring out into the courtyard. Gatty stood just beside the chair, peering at Miguel like he had an extra head perched on his shoulder.

"Have you gotten it out of your system yet, Miguel?"

"Gotten what out of my system?" He ran a smoothing hand over his silk shirt, wishing the unwanted creases away.

"Playing with the water and the lights! Lord Dilandau, Miguel used all the hot water this morning filling and refilling his bathtub and flushing the toilet!"

There was a soft roar from the bed as Shesta, Dallet, Guimel, and Viole broke into simultaneous laughter. Lord Dilandau turned his head from the window to stare at him, the corners of his mouth twitching as he tried not to smile, but his eyes told the story of how bad he wanted to laugh with the monkeys on Miguel's bed.

"Is that what took so long, Miguel?" Lord Dilandau's voice was soft, tired, but amused.

"No... I mean... well... Oh come on! You can't tell me you weren't happy to see water coming from a faucet– clean water without crap floating around in it that you didn't have to warm over a wood stove that produces more smoke than heat!"

Miguel sighed as Lord Dilandau's professional composure shattered and he chortled at Miguel's admission. Even the cloud of annoyance that floated above Gatty's head as he complained about Miguel's behavior had dissipated, and he was chuckling.

Miguel placed a hand on his hip and cleared his throat. "Don't we have a meeting to get to?"

Apparently Allen Schezar could wait when it came to his friends' merriment at Miguel's expense, but he could not wait for Miguel to take a proper bath and to maybe iron his clothing.

"S...sorry, Miguel.... but...you... You get so... righteously angry...at the... funniest things..."

Yeah, yeah... Miguel ran a hand through his damp hair and placed a gentle hand on Lord Dilandau's shoulder. After his lord had calmed into tiny chuckles, Miguel asked, "How are you today?"

Magenta eyes raised to meet his blue ones, smiling lightly. "I've been better, Miguel."

"Should you really be up?" Shesta asked, recovering from his laughing fit and wiping his eyes.

"Folken said it was ok," Lord Dilandau shrugged. "I checked out fine."

"You do look better," Guimel said lightly, and he was telling the truth. The captain looked better rested and slightly refreshed. "But still... Meeting with Goldie Locks isn't that important. If you'd rather rest..."

"Goldie Locks?" Viole giggled. "Allen 'Goldie Locks' Schezar! That's good, Guimel! Hey, what would you call the King's heir and the princess? Beauty and the..."

"Dryden's hardly a beast, Viole," said a dry voice from the doorway of Miguel's room. All heads turned to see Folken standing with his arms crossed. "Sir Allen is waiting, gentlemen. I told him you'd be right along and that you didn't need an escort. I see that I was mistaken."

"You came to escort us?" Viole's eyes positively danced. "Why Lord Folken, I'm honored!" He sprang from the bed to his feet, giving a low bow. "Surely, I'll offer you my arm..."

"Oh good grief..." Miguel mumbled, rolling his eyes at Viole's antics.

Lord Dilandau rose slowly, using the chair for aid and ignoring Gatty's supporting arm. "We don't need escorts, Folken, but your company would be most appreciated. How long do you think this is going to take? I get the impression from looking at Schezar that he's long winded."

Folken's lips quirked into a small, lop-sided smile. "I, myself, have never had to sit through any of his lectures..."

"Lecture? Is that what this is to be? I have no intention of attending any lectures given by... what was it you called him, Guimel... Goldie Locks?"

Folken blinked then shook his head, keeping his silence. Miguel didn't blame him. When questions were asked all chaos seemed to break lose with this bunch.

"You've already agreed to go, Dilandau."

"You agreed for me," Lord Dilandau said, yet he was moving and gesturing for his Slayers to follow him to the door. Folken stepped aside to allow them passage.

"None of you are wearing armor, good," Folken commented as they traveled down the richly decorated hallways.

"Lord Dryden said we could only wear Astorian colors. I don't know about you, but Zaibach armor just didn't seem very appropriate," Lord Dilandau shrugged. He walked close to Folken and Miguel couldn't help but smile.

"Oi Miguel, you think Sir Allen will serve snacks?" Viole asked, scratching the scruff of his neck. "I'm hungry."

Miguel sighed, wanting to sneer something ugly in Viole's direction, but realized he couldn't ignore the growling of his stomach either. Schezar couldn't wait for them to get breakfast?

"I don't know, Viole; I doubt he will," Miguel said. "I bet _he_'s already eaten though."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much," Shesta butted into the conversation. "Lord Folken won't let this last long, I'm sure, and we'll eat soon after."

"Thanks gods and goddesses for Folken," Viole uttered. He ran a hand through his long, wavy hair. "Hey... what would you guys think, if I started wearing a ponytail?"

Thank gods and goddesses for Folken maybe, but who could Miguel curse for Viole?

* * *

They were late. Allen watched disdainfully as the six ex-Zaibach specialists, their red-eyed leader, and Folken filed into the conference room he'd reserved for the meeting. He sat at the head of the long, rectangular table, tapping his fingers. Van sat on his left, looking anywhere but at the entering soldiers.

The King of Fanelia was once again behaving very strangely. He'd risen very early to seek Allen out and ask if he could attend the meeting. Allen had agreed, not forgetting how Van had joined him the previous night and how eager he'd seemed to speak to the ex-Dragonslayers. But, now that the guests of honor were finally there, Van couldn't seem to meet their eyes.

Dilandau and his men took seats at the end of the table, as far from Allen and Van as they could get. Folken scowled at them lightly and purposefully took a closer seat, beside Allen, glaring meaningfully at his young charges.

Allen almost gasped as one with dark, wavy hair stuck out his tongue.

"Well, I see you've found your way here. I trust you had no problems," Allen began, trying to sound cordial but knowing his face expressed none of it.

"Good morning to you too, Schezar. Lets get this over with so my men and I can get out of here and get on to real business," Dilandau said back, tone just as cordial as Allen's had been.

Allen glared at the pale demon, unable to form a retort for a moment.

"Perhaps, you should begin by telling them why you've requested their presence?" Folken's face was as placid as ever, and strangely, Allen was thankful for it. He wanted to appear cool and collected in front of these boys, and he couldn't do that if he lost his temper.

"Thank you, Lord Folken. You're right; I suppose we should get down to business as Lord Dilandau over there has suggested."

Dilandau didn't blink; he stared at Allen, resting his chin in one hand and setting his elbow on the table.

Allen took that as a sign to begin. He glanced at Van briefly to see if the raven-haired monarch had anything he wanted to add and frowned. Van was looking at his hands, locking his fingers together nervously as they seemed to shake.

"Van?" he whispered.

Van's head snapped up and he stared at Allen wide-eyed. "Huh?"

"Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Van said, a little too loudly for it drew the attention of the Dragonslayers. "J...Just fine." His eyes went back to his lap again, but only before shooting a quick look down the table to gaze at Dilandau.

Allen shook his head, turning from Van and addressing the other side of the room. "I've called you all here this morning, because I want to go over the rules and consequences with you in a way Lord Dryden undoubtably has not. He's never met you prior to your...changes of heart... and he's never battled you."

"Good for him; he would have died," Dilandau said cooly, smiling pleasantly. He really was a very handsome boy, once one looked past the attitude. He reminded him vaguely of someone... but he couldn't put his finger on who.

"Dilandau!" Folken gave Dilandau a look that wiped the smile from the boy's lips.

So it seemed that Folken did indeed have some control over him.

"I don't trust you," Allen said flatly. "I've seen you in battle. I know of your war crimes. I know you had no heart and no honor then, and I refuse to believe that you have suddenly acquired both of those things now. You have an ulterior motive, and once whatever you've come here for has been achieved, you're going to leave Astoria in the dust. You'll level her."

He watched Dilandau's eyes narrow and smoke, and Allen, meeting his angry gaze with one of his own, continued. "I'll kill you before that happens. I'll kill all of you. My love and loyalties are to my country, and you won't destroy her without feeling my wrath. I've already expressed my feelings to Lord Folken, but if he hadn't informed you which I suspect he hasn't... there it is."

"And am I supposed to be intimidated by that Schezar? Am I supposed to quake in fear and beg you to believe that I'm a reformed warlord?" Dilandau rose from his chair, slapping both hands down on the table and glaring. "Well let me tell you something, Heavenly Knight..."

"Lord Dilandau..." The blond one Allen had fought aboard the Zaibach airship Van had been imprisoned on spoke up, "...sit down."

"So what if I do have an ulterior motive? You certainly don't think I've developed a taste for your precious country and decided I should come save it, do you? This is a favor to Folken. If he's loyal to Astoria, then I am too for as long as he's here."

"And after that, you'll crawl back to Zaibach?" Allen sneered nastily. So much for keeping a cool head, Dilandau had made him lose that a minute into the conversation.

Dilandau growled, ignoring further pleas from the blond slayer and concerned looks from other members of his team. "I don't crawl, Allen, and I'd never go back to Zaibach. I won't be satisfied until I see that country go up in flames for the wrongs they've done."

"What about the wrongs you've done?" Allen demanded. "You burned the country of Fanelia to the ground; you destroyed my castle and many others, killing civilians..."

"In war, Allen, moral lines are drawn differently."

"You would say something like that!"

Dilandau smirked. "You can't tell me that you, Great Knight, have never been the cause of any casualties, or how about you, King Fanel? I've heard about some of your grand battles. Can you tell me no innocent blood was ever shed?"

Allen's mouth nearly scrapped the table. The nerve of... "How dare you even speak to King Fanel about such..."

"No... no, I can't," Van said suddenly, interrupting Allen, his voice a little higher than usual. Allen was sure his mouth did touch the table then.

"Van?"

"He's right, Allen," Van said, staring him earnestly, brown eyes glittering with an emotion Allen didn't comprehend. Pleading? Was he pleading with Allen? But for what?

"There's no right and wrong in battle; there are only losses and victories. Many have fallen by my sword... many I wish I could bring back... but you don't condemn me for it, do you?"

Allen was breathing, nice and slow, long and deep... Do not break anything, do not kick anything, do not curse anyone, and for the love of the gods stop thinking about lighter fluid.

Van was defending a blood thirsty tyrant, the very same tyrant that razed his homeland, and he wanted Allen to agree with him.

"My brother is right, Sir Allen. Events that transpired in the name of war cannot rightly be used to judge a person. There are things many good men do in the heat of the moment, or under orders that they would never do on their own," Folken said quietly, his eyes on Dilandau. "Do sit down, Dilandau. What did I tell you...?"

"Do shut up, Folken!" Dilandau exclaimed, staring at the man crossly. Allen noted that the boy did take his seat.

Where to go from here? The tension in the room was so thick, it could be sliced with a sword. Allen looked to Van, the person who was _supposed _to be his ally in this, to find him gazing down the table again at Dilandau, again! Dilandau was in quiet communication with his men, who didn't look very pleased with him.

Was Van trying to catch Dilandau's eye? Allen hoped not, for the only return attention he was receiving was from the brown-haired, blue-eyed boy-- that had escaped from the dungeons of Freid! Allen stared; he would have written that one off for dead. The boy was glaring at Van in a way that made Allen wonder if Van had violated him while he was held captive.

"Sir Allen, my charges understand your feelings and have already sworn their loyalty to the presently reigning sovereign. A meeting such as this was totally unnecessary, and if I had known that all you wanted to do was throw accusations and heated words here, I never would have condoned it. If that is all you have to say, then Lord Dilandau is right, we do have real business to attend to..."

How had he let this get away from him? He wanted to put fear in these boys. He wanted them to know that he was watching them closely; one slip up, and they were gone, but all he'd done was anger them and come across as a hot-head. "That is not all I have to say. I also wanted to discuss your assignment..."

"Sir Allen with all due respect,_ I_ have not even gone over the full extent of their assignment with them."

Breathe....

"So... it would seem that maybe this meeting was a waste of time on both my part and yours," Allen said courteously, biting the inside of his cheek. "I apologize and I assure you that we will have no further gatherings. It seems the worst in all of us comes out, when we are together."

"That's the first intelligent thing you've said all day, Schezar," Dilandau purred. "But... maybe this wasn't as much of a waste as you think. It was good to put all of our feelings about one another out on the table. Now we all know where we stand with one another, and we won't have to pretend to like each other."

Allen raised a brow. The boy made an excellent point, but one thing had to be clear. "But we _will_ respect one another. That is what I ask, and what I should have started off this conversation with."

"Respect is something that must be earned," Dilandau said flatly. His eyes were serious, his mouth a straight line. All traces of smugness, arrogance, and amusement were gone from his pale face, making the shadows beneath his eyes appear more prominent. "Make me respect you, Allen, and I'll make you respect me. We'll start clean with one another. If you're willing that is. Whatever happened between us in the past will remain in the past, and we'll know each other for the first time today."

Allen stared as he recalled all of his previous encounters with Dilandau. He compared that boy with the one that sat before him now, wondering how they could be the same person.

Folken did say that Dilandau had changed, but this was unbelievable. There had to be some sort of catch, a trick... but the steady red gaze was clear, trustworthy, and the Dragonslayers were quiet, watching Allen carefully, ready to follow their lord's lead.

Discarding the past was easier said than done, but if a young boy was willing to let it go, then surely Allen, a grown man and a Knight Caeli to boot, could do it too, or at least try.

Their current arrangement, fighting side by side, would never work if such an agreement wasn't made. Allen only wished he'd been the one to come up with it. He needed to do something to save face...

"Fine," Allen said, nodding slowly. "What's in the past is in the past. Van? Do you agree?"

Need he ask?

Van rose from his chair and cautiously walked to the end of the table where the 7 new additions to the Astorian army sat, staring at him. Extending a hand to Dilandau, Van said, "I'm Van Slanzar de Fanel, King of Astoria, and you are...?"

* * *

Lets see...

Brushed his shoulder this morning... would that classify as physical contact or not? It hadn't been intentional; he had said, "Sorry."

Van unrolled the "Progress" chart he'd been keeping for the past week. He had rows and columns designated for: physical contact, eye contact, smiles, smirks, and communication. So far, the King had physical contact with Dilandau three times, one time being their first hand shake, a second time a passed bread basket where their hands had grazed each others', and the third... he penciled in the shoulder brushing.

Eye contact... Eye contact was good. Dilandau usually looked at him when he spoke to him, not that Van spoke to him often.

He just couldn't figure out what to say! All of the things he practiced in front of the mirror suddenly seemed stupid when Dilandau came near.

Van groaned. He was being ridiculous! Talking to someone wasn't hard. Dilandau was a boy, a fellow warrior; all he had to do was talk about swords, guymelef oil...something! But every time he opened his mouth, he tasted the leather of one of his fine new shoes, or worse, Avenger...now known as Miguel... would appear, seemingly out of nowhere, and whisk Dilandau away from him!

Gods...

Miguel knew Van's secret. Miguel was the only one who really knew...he hoped. The brunette had no reason NOT to tell anyone what he'd suspected that day in the dungeons of Freid. Dilandau didn't let on that he knew anything, but then again, Van knew virtually nothing about him other than he was gorgeous and his technique in anything was poetry in motion, whether he be wielding a sword, dagger, lance, or eating utensil at dinner.

Stop it, Van! He massaged his temples. It was getting worse; he was getting worse! The more he saw of Dilandau, the more he liked him and knew he had to start forming some course of action.

The problem was... he hadn't the faintest clue where to begin. Common sense told him to start with friendship, if only he wouldn't get so damn nervous. It was hard to be friends with someone who made you want to sing and throw up at the same time. It was an awful feeling that Van wanted to banish from his system.

Gods... it came so naturally to Allen, talking to people, getting them to fall in love with him...

Even Folken, socially retarded Folken, had a very tight-knit relationship with Dilandau that made him jealous to observe, but he wasn't too sure if the jealousy stemmed from Folken being so close to Dilandau, or if it came from Dilandau...being so close to Folken.

It looked like Folken was taking care of Dilandau, guiding him. He should be doing that for Van... and maybe he would, if Van could let him.

Van had done a very good job in scaring Folken away from him. Every now and again, he caught Folken's gaze on him, but his older brother no longer even attempted to initiate conversations with him anymore.

Van could see the pain in Folken's eyes, and... it hurt like a knife in the gut, but it hurt even worse to see that pain abate when Dilandau appeared at Folken's side. Van had been replaced.

Dilandau had stolen his big brother from him...

And still Van loved him.

He was loonier than anybody had ever believed Dilandau to be.

He rolled up his chart and tucked it back into his desk drawer under a paperweight. Van really needed to find a better hiding place. He'd been doing an excellent job keeping Merle out, but sooner or later the little beast girl was going to break in while he wasn't around and go through his things.

He tried to summon some anger at the thought, but couldn't put his heart in it. Poor Merle was the only person considered to be family that he had left, and he'd been neglecting her. So what if she was annoying, got in his way, and poked her nose into everyone's business but her own; he should spend more time with her. Merle had been looking rather lonely lately and had taken to hanging around Hitomi, who wasn't looking any better.

Girls... There was always something wrong with them!

Well, with the exception of Millerna, she'd been looking very happy lately. She and Dryden had come to an understanding and seemed to almost enjoy each others' company. It was kind of nice to see people smiling for a change and having a good time, instead of frustrated and going half out of their minds, trying to find a way to... Arg!

Ok... all right. Van would just stop thinking about it. Then maybe his heart rate would return to normal and the fluttering in his stomach would settle. He flopped down on his bed, flat on his belly, and stared at the large portrait of a dead Queen on the wall just above him.

So, Your Majesty, you were married right? How did you get your prospective husband to talk to you?

He slapped himself. Stop it! Think about something else-- something important-- like the war. Think about war!

The battlefront had been pretty quiet as of late, a quiet before the storm. Minor skirmishes had broken out along the borders of other countries, but Astoria was being left alone for the time being. The clean up and restoration process of the capitol city after the Luck soldiers' attack was going really well. Van felt a trifle guilty, because he had not participated in the project since... the person he wasn't thinking about... arrived. Hitomi, Merle, and Millerna ventured out to the construction sites quite often.

Maybe he'd go with them this afternoon. That way he could get out of the castle, spend some much needed time with Merle, and do some good. Gods knew he wasn't doing any good in here.

_Knock. Knock._

Van pushed himself up into a sitting position and angled his face towards the door. Who could that be?

Allen? Merle?... Please don't be Hitomi...

"Who is it?"

"Dilandau Albatou."

Dilandau?! Oh my gods! Oh my gods! He's here! He's outside my door! What do I do? What do I do...

Let him in, idiot!

Oh! Of course! "Come in!" Dammit! He wasn't supposed to sound excited! Dilandau probably thought he was...

The door to his room opened, revealing the pale Adonis, sheathed in red silk and black leather, a long sword with a silver hilt strapped to his waist and a jeweled dagger tucked in his midnight belt. Fusia eyes lined with dark lashes gazed at Van, who was still sitting on the bed, disinterestedly.

"So here you are. That weird girl of Sir Allen's told me I might be able to find you in here."

He was looking for me?

Don't start grinning, moron.

"Uh...yeah. Here I am. Did you...uh...need something?" Oh smooth, Van.

Luckily, Dilandau wasn't really paying attention to him. He came further into the room, prowling the territory and admiring Van's view from the large bay windows that overlooked the surf.

Van waited for him to speak, moistening his dry lips and praying that the gods would bless his tongue with witty remarks and insightful phrases.

It wasn't wise to look at Dilandau for too long. Van had started to notice the way the golden sunlight contrasted with the silver of Dilandau's hair and the perfection of his profile.

He frowned, the profile... it was reminiscent of someone else, but who had Van seen that had looked enough like Dilandau from the side to interrupt his appraisal?

"I need a favor."

Huh? Van blinked, trying to tear his eyes off Dilandau. From me? He thinks I can do something for him?

"Uh...sure. What is it... Lord Dilandau?"

Dilandau hadn't looked away from the window, and Van wondered vaguely how he was going to document this encounter in his chart. He would probably have to draw up a new column.

"My men and I are to have 70 young army recruits trained and battle ready in a month. We're going to divide the boys up into classes of 10, one class for each man, and I'm to oversee the progress of them all. My problem is that I only have 6 men, so there is one class of 10 that is teacher-less."

"And you...want me to teach...with you?" Van cringed as his voice rose in octave.

"Your technique has much improved and I believe the recruits could learn much from you."

Me! He wants me! "Why not ask Allen? He's... a Knight Caeli, and he's been fighting much longer than I have..."

Dilandau turned slowly from the window, frowning at Van. "If you don't want to..."

"No! No, I want to! I'll do it!" Van jumped off the bed, almost standing at attention he was so stiff with the fear of upsetting Dilandau and causing him to leave. "I just... me, huh? You think I'm good?"

Dilandau studied him for a bit, rubbing his chin. "Maybe. I'm giving you a chance, Van Fanel. I have a promise to uphold and... I'm taking it to the next level. Practice is tonight at 9 in the west courtyard."

"O...ok," Van nodded, hoping he wasn't sweating. He felt dampness on his brow.

Dilandau stared at him a moment longer before brushing locks of platinum from his eyes with slender fingers and escorting himself to the door.

Van could do nothing but watch the boy as he seemed to float from the room...like a dream. Oh, don't let this be a dream.

"Don't be late... oh, and thanks." The door closed and Van's breathing returned to normal. Oh man... He looked down at his quivering hands, thinking he was going to have to get over this problem before he had to hold a sword that night. He walked to the window, standing in the exact spot and position Dilandau had stood in. Then looked to his bed, wanting to see the light Dilandau had watched him in.

Hmm... not bad.

He reflected on his conversation with Dilandau. Not witty, not insightful, but... not bad either. He'd taken his first step all by himself! He had a date with Dilandau tonight... well, not exactly a date, but he was getting an opportunity to work with him.

What was he going to wear?

He wandered over to his closet, opening the doors and pondering over his wardrobe... and... also over something else. He narrowed his eyes, recalling an image of Dilandau standing by the window, running his hand through his hair.

There had been something on his hand. It had looked like a bandage of some sort. Was he hurt?

Van frowned. Well, he would get a better look at it tonight, and maybe... maybe he could impress Dilandau so much with his skill that he would earn a little one on one.

Now that was a beautiful thought.

He hummed to himself as he picked out a dark green shirt to try on.

* * *

"Where's Lord Dilandau?" Miguel entered the large training room with the look of a wild man. Viole snickered, wondering what had gotten Miguel's bloomers in a bunch this time. Perhaps he'd discovered the surprise Viole had left for him under his pillows, or maybe he'd taken a good whiff of the special bath oil Viole had delivered to his room anonymously.

Yes, where was Lord Dilandau? Someone was going to have to keep Miguel from killing him. Miguel had gotten downright vicious as of late with his sword to where no one wanted to practice with him. Something was wrong, but Miguel was being tight-lipped about it. Viole tried everything, bugging him, pestering him, bribing him, threatening him... Miguel just got this strange gleam in his eyes and clammed up.

"I don't know," Gatty shrugged. He was practicing a weaponless kata Viole had never seen before in front of the long mirror lining the far wall. "He said he was going for a walk."

"What?" Miguel slammed the door to the room closed and nearly knocked Viole over as he tried to greet him on his way to Gatty. Miguel placed himself in the middle of Gatty's dance with his hands on his hips. "You let him go off alone?"

"Relax, Miguel; he said he wasn't going far," Guimel yawned; the tow-headed blond was stretched out on a practice mat. He claimed to be meditating, but Viole strongly suspected Guimel was taking a nap. The snores kind of gave him away.

"He should be back soon. You know he wanted to go over the recruit evaluations with us and help formulate the group rosters. I can't believe I'm going to be teaching a class...like...like some honorable Sensei or something." Dallet sat near Guimel, polishing a set of opal- handled daggers on a large white towel tinged black with debris.

"I still wonder what he's going to do about the 7th class. Think he'll teach it himself? I don't think he should. He's been so tired, and I'm sure Lord Folken wouldn't approve of it." Shesta sat on the thick balance beam, reading over the stack of evaluations. "Gatty, did you put these X's here to indicate which boys you're willing to take?"

"No, those X's are for the people I refuse to consider," Gatty remarked, glaring at Miguel, who was still in his way. "Move Miguel!"

"There certainly are a lot of X's here, Gatty," Shesta huffed. "And what are these lollipop looking things?"

"Those are mine!" Viole waved a hand. "All those boys need to learn how to move their feet, and I can show them that."

Shesta nodded. "Lollipops... Viole. Check. Are these little daggers yours, Miguel?"

Viole glanced at Miguel, curious to hear Miguel's comments on his dagger-markings. He'd told Viole the recruit-boys looked like baby elephants being forced to hold their bladders in practice battle.

Miguel had thankfully moved out of Gatty's way, but glared at the blond evilly for resuming his kata. He was pressing his lips together, the warning sign that always let Viole know that he'd _really_ made Miguel angry.

"Miguel?" Shesta asked again, looking up from the paperwork at the brunette Slayer.

"No, Shesta. The little daggers are not mine, and just what direction did Lord Dilandau go in when he left for this walk of his that no one seems to care about?"

"We don't know, Miguel!" Gatty shouted, stopping his exercise. "If you're so concerned about monitoring Lord Dilandau's every move in this large, well-protected castle, where did you run off to earlier, huh?"

"I..." Miguel's hands were at his sides slowly balling themselves into fists. "I.... was having a suit made, but I trusted you..."

Viole giggled. Having a suit made, Miguel? You should have asked me to come along and give my opinion on what fits made you look stupid.

"Trusted us to what? Lord Dilandau's a big boy now. If he wants to walk to the library and..."

"He went to the library?" Miguel queried.

"No!" Gatty exclaimed, then frowned. "I don't know! What are you so worked up about, Miguel?"

"I'm not worked up about anything that you shouldn't be worked up about!" Miguel fumed, kicking a stray mat. "This castle is crawling with people who'd love to have at it with one of us. None of us should walk around alone!"

"But we do," Dallet countered," and nothing's happened, Miguel. In truth, I feel safer here than I ever did on the Vione where everyone there was supposed to be and always had been our allies. The people here... they have a cleaner more dependable vibe about them, Miguel. You can't tell me you don't feel it, or you wouldn't have been downstairs, half-naked, allowing the castle tailor to stick pins near your privates to measure trousers and trusting him not destroy any chances of progeny you might have."

Uh-oh. Miguel's lips had gone white he was pressing them together so hard, and his face was flushing. "That's different!"

"How so?" Shesta asked, sliding off the balance beam and setting the papers on top of it. "What's wrong, Miguel? You've been behaving very strangely, even for you."

"Nothing's the matter with me! Ooh... you just don't understand!" Miguel pulled at his hair, leaving it in cowlicks.

"Help us understand then," Gatty growled, "because you are getting on my last nerve. Lord Dilandau is about to be short TWO teachers!"

"It... I..."

Spill, Miguel... Though I'm obscenely jealous that Gatty's going to be the one who got it out of you.

"Hey, I've solved our problem with the seventh class." Lord Dilandau entered the practice room, looking very proud of himself. He stopped beside Viole, resting an elbow on his shoulder and leaning a bit. "Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all, Lord Dilandau. Miguel is about to tell us what's been up his ass for the past week, and I'm sure he'd want you to hear this too," Gatty said flatly, staring at Miguel darkly.

Miguel growled in his throat. "I wasn't about to say anything, Gatty. Lord Dilandau has news; why don't we hear it?"

Viole raised a brow and felt Lord Dilandau shifting a bit, removing his arm from Viole's shoulder and gazing suspiciously from Gatty to Miguel, eyes settling on Miguel. "I've found a teacher for the 7th class."

"You have?" Shesta chirped. "That's great! Does he have a speciality? I think we've all marked off the people we think we can handle, according to their needs. If this guy can handle free-hand sword work, we're good."

Lord Dilandau grinned. "I think we're good then."

"Who'd you get?" Guimel asked, still lying flat on his back.

"Van Fanel," Lord Dilandau said easily. "I asked him just now."

"Van Fanel?" Miguel croaked.

"Van Fanel... King Van Fanel?" Guimel sat up as they all ogled Lord Dilandau for a moment.

Lord Dilandau had been really serious about putting the past behind them, but it was a little harder for Viole and the others to overlook the fact that the good King tried to kill Lord Dilandau in cold blood.

But... if anyone had the right to truly be angry about the incident, it was Lord Dilandau, and if he was trying-- and he was really trying-- then accepting Van Fanel as an honorary member of their training mission was the least they could do. Besides, the King hadn't delivered one hateful look in Lord Dilandau's direction and was the first to shake his hand in that awful meeting with Allen Schezar.

"Yeah. He's not bad with a sword and he's around our age. You know it's easier to take lessons from your peers," Lord Dilandau said. "He seems rather excited about it actually. I thought he was going to say no at first... I think I make him nervous."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Miguel muttered and Viole's eyes widened as he jumped. Miguel stood right beside him. When had he gotten so close to him, and why hadn't Viole noticed?

"I told him to meet us tonight in the courtyard. We'll do an attendance check and divvy the boys up."

"Sounds good, but maybe he should meet us sooner, so he could demonstrate the things he thinks he can teach. What if we don't like his methods?"

Lord Dilandau sighed, scratching under the long sleeve that covered the back of his left hand. "Then we'll train him too."

"So, he may turn out to be more trouble than he's worth," Miguel said. "Why do we have to have 7 classes? Can't we just break apart the last class and integrate them into other groups."

Viole frowned at Miguel. His eyes were as wild as they had been when he'd first entered the room, and his voice shook a bit.

Lord Dilandau glanced at Miguel tiredly. "The classes of 10 are too big, Miguel; none of these boys are going to be as good as could be, and you want to increase the number of students?"

"Well...no, but..."

"But what? You're not making any sense. Are you all right, Miguel?"

Miguel's eyes were large and he was pressing his lips together again like he was trying to keep something in.

"Miguel?" Viole elbowed him. He was starting to look deranged.

"Does it have to be Van Fanel?" Miguel finally blurted. "Anyone but him!"

"Well, who else is there? Allen Schezar? We may have a truce, but something about him still rubs me the wrong way, and... he's old! The other young Astorian warriors I've observed are mediocre. Have you seen someone I haven't, Miguel?"

"Uh...no, Lord Dilandau, but... Van Fanel? Maybe... maybe we could just do eliminations and drop 10 people from the line up? Then we'll have 60..."

"Miguel, there is nothing wrong with the King," Lord Dilandau said, frowning for a moment and blinking incredulously. Did I just say that?-- his expression read. Shaking his silvery head, "He's been decent-- still can't say that I like him-- but Folken will be pleased..."

"So that's it! You're trying to make Lord Folken happy by being nice to his brother," Miguel said, clapping his hands together. Viole nearly fell over and he heard some gasps. Did Miguel have a death wish?

They waited for the sound of Miguel's head rolling across the floor.

"You're out of line, Miguel," Lord Dilandau warned in a low tone, body tensing.

Guimel and Dallet snickered from their corner, and Shesta frowned as reclaimed his seat on the balance beam.

"I just think that this is a mistake!" Miguel moved to stand before Lord Dilandau in the center of the room. Placing a hand on the Captain's shoulder, he said, "You think that you can persuade Van to be nicer to his brother, if you're his friend right? I know Lord Folken's done a lot for us, but you don't have to bend over backward to return the favor!"

Lord Dilandau's pale complexion was beginning to flush slightly and Gatty snarled, stalking to Miguel and shoving him away from Lord Dilandau. "I've had it with you, Miguel. Either _you_ pull that stick out of your ass right now, or _I'm_ going to do it for you!"

"This just keeps getting better," Guimel nudged Dallet who grinned, itching to see a fight.

"Knock it off, everyone!" Shesta shouted. He was now standing on the beam, glaring down at them. "We've got too much work to do to be bickering amongst ourselves! Gatty, finish your kata; Guimel, glad you're awake, you and Dallet practice feints. Lord Dilandau, I need your help over here, and Viole... go after Miguel..."

Miguel had pushed Gatty back and was storming out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him.

Viole gulped. Miguel was really upset. "Why do I have to go after him?"

"Because if I do, I'll kill him," Gatty retorted, going back to his corner of the room and taking a horse stance.

Dallet was pulling Guimel up from the floor, grumbling about Shesta being bossy, and Lord Dilandau, after scowling at the closed door Miguel had slammed and the bold, blond Slayer, joined Shesta. He climbed onto the balance beam, straddling it, and Shesta sat back down, pushing the evaluation papers at him and explaining the marking system to the best of his knowledge.

Damn.

No one was even looking at Viole. They really did expect him to go after Miguel! He wasn't paid enough for this. Hell, he wasn't paid at all! Viole should really file a complaint.

But who would he turn it in to?

Damn.

Groaning loudly and being ignored by everyone in the room, Viole trudged to the door.

The hallway was cool, quiet, and Miguel-less. Viole pouted. He was going to have to search for him. How far could Miguel have really gotten in the moment delay Viole had in coming after him?

If he was still running, Viole shuddered to think of the possibilities.

So, ok... if I was a Miguel, where would I go?

Hmm...

"Yipe!" Viole shrieked as something grabbed him from behind. He tried to whirl around and draw his sword, but the person wrapped a strong arm around his torso and another around throat, the hand coming up to cover his mouth.

"Shut up Viole," it hissed.

"Mmmph!" Miguel?

He was released and he turned to face Miguel, who was leaning against the stone wall, an annoyed expression teasing his features.

"Miguel, what...?"

"Look," Miguel straightened up and he looked around the hallway quickly. "I'm going to tell you something that's going to sound crazy, but hear me out, because I need you to help me."

"You, Miguel Lavariel, are asking for _my_ help?" Viole grinned. It must have been a cold day in the 4th Hell, indeed.

"Just shut up and be serious for once. Don't make me regret this! I don't want to tell Lord Dilandau, because it'll upset him, and that's not good. I don't want to tell the others because... they may have one of those dumb group meetings everyone's been so fond of calling lately and vote to tell him!" Miguel grabbed Viole's hand, squeezing his fingers tightly. "This is between you and me. We can do something about this on our own."

"Do something about what?" Viole stared at Miguel, slightly shaken. Something was seriously wrong with Miguel and _he_ was about to find out what it was. Eat that, Gatty!

"Van Fanel..."

"What about him?"

"He... likes Lord Dilandau..." Miguel muttered, lowering his head.

"So? We want him to like Lord Dilandau. That means we won't have to worry about him trying to kill him..."

"No! Not that kind of'like!' He _likes_ Lord Dilandau; you know, like you and I would _like_ a girl!"

Viole chuckled. "King Van's a queer. That's hilarious! I always wondered why... OH MY GODS!"

Miguel clamped a hand back over Viole's mouth, waiting for him to calm down while tapping a foot in annoyance. King Van liked Lord Dilandau, as in King Van had a crush on Lord Dilandau...

But he's been so nice... And that's why!

"How did this happen without us noticing?" Viole demanded when Miguel removed his hand.

Miguel was shaking his head. "I don't know when it happened, but I found out about it when I was captured. While I was in the dungeon, the good King came to chat with me."

Miguel shuddered and Viole balked.

"You've known about it for that long?"

"Hey! I never thought we'd end up here, living right under the guy! If I did, I certainly would have done everything I could to have killed him when I had the chance! Lousy pervert. And now Lord Dilandau wants to be his friend!"

"Why though?"

"Weren't you listening to me in there? It's for Folken! Haven't you seen the way Van treats him?"

"Oh man..." Viole rubbed his face. "This is bad. This is really bad. What if..."

"There will be no 'what if's,' because we're going to find ways to keep them apart," Miguel said, eyes distant. "You're good at annoying the shit out of people. It shouldn't be too hard for you to drive the King away."

Viole was nodding in agreement, then gasped. "Miguel!" He smacked his partner.

"What? I was just naming off one of your strengths..."

"Well how about I name off a couple of your strengths as well, starting with your breath..."

"Viole..." Miguel growled.

"Miguel." Viole smiled sweetly. He wrapped an arm around Miguel's shoulder, pulling the other boy closer as he squawked indignantly. "Well, time's a wasting. Come on, we've got to come up with some plans to deter King Van."

* * *

"_Celena, just look at the mess you've made, you horrible girl!" A large woman with a great hairy mole on her rounded chin swatted at the little girl with fat, floury hands. _

_The cherry-wooded floor was now white with powder. The little girl sat on her buttocks in a frilly skirt, patting at the dust and licking the palms of her hands. Sweet. Sugar! _

"_I was to have these sweets ready by 2! Oh you demon child, get out!" _

_Celena laughed gleefully and jumped to her spry little legs to run circles around Fat Hilda, yanking at her apron and smacking her large bottom as the woman tottered around clumsily on bowlegs, trying to spank her. _

_On the counter was a bowl of cherries and jam! That was what she'd really wanted, but when she had jumped up and pulled on the cloth Fat Hilda had used to line the counter, only the sugar and flour had fallen. Flour tasted icky, but sugar was nice. Fat Hilda backed up, blocking Celena's way to the cherries, an ugly gleam in her beady black eyes as she seemed to know to what Celena was really after._

_Celena stopped prancing and stood in front of the woman, hands on her hips, legs spread apart. There was no way she could knock Fat Hilda out of the way now. _

'_Why couldn't you just wait until the pies were ready. We could have had the cherries left over!'_

_Shut up! You know she'd never give them to us. Big Brother gets everything from her! We have to take it!_

'_Mommy would have given us some...'_

_Mommy's doing her boring flower stuff. We have to make Fat Hilda move..._

'_How?' _

_You're the smarty-pants! You tell me and I'll do it! _

'_I wanna help Mommy!'_

_Celena huffed aloud, narrowing her eyes at Fat Hilda and stamping her feet. "Give them to me!"_

"_I told you, no sweets for bad little girls!" Fat Hilda smiled wickedly. "Bad little girls get frogs and lizards!"_

"_I like frogs and lizards!"_

"_You would," Fat Hilda snorted, taking the bowl of red fruit in her fat arms and placing them up on a high shelf. "Lets see you get that, demon child."_

_Celena growled, clenching her tiny fists as the fat woman laughed. _

"_You think you're so smart, don't you? I'm going to tell your mother and she'll switch you good, and have you clean up this mess..."_

"_You're supposed to clean up, Witch! Mommy never switches me!"_

"_Which is the problem," Fat Hilda sneered. She reached behind her for the broom leaning against the door jab of the pantry. "She never beat the evil out of you, but I'll fix that."_

'_Run! Run!'_

_We're not going anywhere!_

'_She'll hurt us!'_

_We'll hurt her! _

_Celena whirled about, her eyes landing on the warming, wood-burning oven in the corner of the room. She dashed to the iron monster that Mommy told her never to touch and snatched up one of the sticks Big Brother would have fed to the fire. She stuck it in the monster's mouth, letting the fire's tongue take a curious lick. She heard Fat Hilda's thundering steps behind her and heard the straw of the broom she dragged, brushing across the dirty floor. _

'_What are you doing?!'_

_Celena turned just as Fat Hilda approached, broom raised to hit her, and tossed the flaming stick at the skirts of the woman's shapeless, gray dress. Cackling as the woman's skirts caught fire, she pulled down the can of cooking grease Fat Hilda so loved and tossed it at her too._

_She fell back onto the floor as the flames seemed to explode and Fat Hilda cried out in horror as she danced about trying to put out her dress. _

_Celena stared at the fire dance, loving the orange, red, and yellow flowers as they blossomed and grew. They would eat mean Fat Hilda all up, and then Mommy would cook again. Then they could have as many cherries as they wanted._

"_Celena!" Mommy's voice, screaming in panic._

"_My gods!" Big Brother's voice._

_She was lifted and cuddled to soft breast as the kitchen disappeared in a blur. "Oh Celena, are you alright?"_

_Celena raised her head from the silky fabric of Mommy's dress to gaze into her light blue eyes. _

'_You burned Hilda.'_

_Yes I did._

'_You hurt her.'_

_She was going to hurt us._

'_You liked it!'_

_So?_

_Quiet. Had she finally driven him away? No... no, she could still feel him inside, pouting and not wanting to talk to her... again._

_Why did he always want her to feel bad about things she did? Fun was fun, and besides, no one had liked Fat Hilda anyway._

"_Celena, darling?"_

"_Mommy," she said, nuzzling her face back in the silk of Mommy's blouse and inhaling her rosy scent, "I want cherries."_

__

"Lord Valeska? Someone's here for you."

Valeska sat on the floor with her legs sprawled out in front of her. The room was in shambles. She'd destroyed everything, anything the demons could be using as hiding places. She'd ripped the sheets, splintered the wooden bed, shattered the dresser after throwing it to the side to look behind it.

Celena and Dilandau. They were in there somewhere, pointing and laughing at her. Devils that looked like angels, those two, and she saw them in everything, everywhere!

She cringed at their giggles, their taunts, and their dreams! Valeska pulled at her hair, no longer grimacing when tufts of blond curls came free in her fingers. In fact... Where was her sword? She tried to stand, ordering her sore body into motion. Deeps cuts and scrapes stung and protested her movements, but she ignored them.

Rising to her feet and swaying, Valeska's bare feet crunched over the broken glass to the corner where she'd last seen her sword. It was buried under splinters of wood and shreds of bloodied fabric. She dug through the mess, hissing as small pieces of timber pierced her flesh.

Sword...sword...

"Lord Valeska. They... they're going to open the door."

Something sharp sliced through a tender palm. Sword! Valeska worked feverishly to unearth the treasure. Her elbow screamed when she struck it against a large chunk of wood, her knee throbbed when she scraped it across a larger shard of glass.

Her sword, she could see it! Valeska grasped the hilt, pulling for all she was worth. The blood on her hands made her grip slippery and she fell backward, hard and empty-handed.

Dammit! She lunged at the pile of debris again just as something crashed into the wall behind her.

The door. Someone had kicked her door in!

Valeska roared, ripping her sword from its proverbial stone. Grinning madly, once she held its gritty pommel in her hands. Come and get me... she turned and screamed, sword going slack.

Sorcerer.

The tall man smiled at her, revealing a mouth of even white teeth. "Valeska."

"Get...get...away!"

Two larger men stood behind the Sorcerer, one held a needle the other held chains. Two more stood behind them... all of them were smiling.

Valeska couldn't breathe; her heart was in her throat. She was paralyzed... she couldn't even feel her... She stared. Behind the Sorcerer, the one who was pointing and commanding the large men to move toward her...

They were there.

Celena and Dilandau.

They stood side by side, heads together, looking smug. Waving at her, they vanished still grinning, still laughing! "GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHITS! YOU FINALLY COME OUT OF HIDING ONLY TO RUN AWAY!! YOU CAN'T GET AWAY FROM...."

Something grabbed her arms and something was jabbed into her side. The man with the needle held her, and she howled as the chemical agent in the syringe flushed her system. Valeska's vision blurred as the second man with the chains approached. She tried to kick at him, but her legs were so heavy and.. Gods...she'd really hurt herself. Every cut, scrape, and bruise was weeping for attention, and she almost wept with them as the icy metal of the chains was draped around her body and pulled tight.

Valeska cried out as she was dropped back onto the glassy floor. She shut her eyes before the glass could gain entrance, but there was nothing she could do to protect her face.

Wetness streamed down her cheeks, but Valeska couldn't tell whether the dampness came from tears or blood. Maybe both.

Valeska groaned as coarse hands grabbed at her metal corset from behind and yanked her into an upright position. Valeska's head snapped backward then fell forward so quickly that she bit her tongue. She spat blood into the face of the one in front of her. She opened her eyes slowly to see the Sorcerer.

Valeska grinned painfully at the patch of blood on his cheek.

Even with her eyes closed she had great aim, she thought absently as the room grew dark.

"What a mess," the Sorcerer grumbled.

"'_Celena, just look at the mess you've made..."'_

What? She tried to find the source of the voice...so familiar... but she was so tired. She relaxed, letting her eyes close the rest of the way. Sleep...

Mommy would clean it up for them in the morning.

Valeska smiled at that, comforted by the scent of roses and the sweet taste of ripe cherries on her tongue.

* * *

"You've ruined them," the beast man said gruffly to the Sorcerer next to him. They stood outside of the glass atrium, observing the young girl inside as she ripped the wings off of butterflies and strutted about like a toy soldier, talking to herself.

"No. I've made them better."

"Look at her!" the man with the head of a lion shouted, pressing his index finger roughly against the glass. "She's regressing!"

"She's the child you raised once more. I thought you'd be pleased, Jajuka," the Sorcerer smirked nastily.

Jajuka snarled, growling low in his throat, ready to bite the man's head from his neck, but... he was the Master. The last time Jajuka had retaliated, he'd been bitten within an inch of his life and... his little girl, his little Celena, was taken away from him.

"I...I can keep her then? She'll stay here with me to take care of her?" Jajuka knew how dangerous it was to get his hopes up, but this time...this time...

"She will stay here with you until I finish improving her, then she will return to battle."

...was not any different. Jajuka's heart sank and he glimpsed the blond girl, tearing a skinny limb from a tree and using it as a sword. Always a warrior, that one.

"You can go with her, if you wish."

Jajuka's head snapped back to the Sorcerer. He could go with her? "You'd permit me to leave?"

"We'll need someone to keep an eye on the girl until her mission is complete."

Jajuka blinked.

"You'll be her only subordinate since no one will want to fight under her again."

Something about this sounded amiss. Surely this Sorcerer was being too lenient. After all, what was to keep Jajuka from simply taking Celena and running away? Zaibach would never find them once Jajuka took to the woods. The beast man was sure he could persuade Celena to desert. There was nothing for her to love in Zaibach.

What was the catch? There had to be something that still bound the girl to Zaibach, something she wanted...

"What will be her mission?"

The Sorcerer's smirk broadened into a cruel smile. "The elimination of Dilandau Albatou."

* * *

Author's Note: Ok... I hope you all weren't too disappointed :/ I'm very iffy about this chapter (and overall not very fond of it). I just couldn't get it to sound right..grrr... Anyways, please review and let me know what you thought. Oh, and don't forget to leave ideas for a one-shot you might want to read.

Reviewer Responses: I already did most of these by way of e-mail :). I'm going to answer the reviewers that didn't leave e-mail addresses. I'll do proper reviewer responses again in the next chapter ;).

Special thanks to: Nikku, Aurebec, SkippysCat, Kou-Kageru, DragonSteel, TomorrowSoundsGood, Macky, PocketTieFairy, Lady Snow Blood, PhoenixFirestorm, Jhaylin, OmnipotentPyro, and Spoon No Miko. I hope you all got my e-mails :) and I hope you guys forgive me for this chapter lol!

Koneri: Lol! Hitomi apparently gets on a lot of people's nerves, including mine ;). I think I'm having too much fun planning Van's wardrobe. Thanks for reviewing and I hope you liked the chapter!

ImaginaryYoukai: Lol, thanks. I think I got your review at work and it made me smile while one of the bosses walked past my office. One day they're going to fire me for playing on the internet on the job ;). Thanks for reviewing!

Karalina Rumiko San Tatsuhido: Hi Kay! Hope you found the new chapter just fine, and I hope it was ok for you :). Thank you for reviewing and take care!


	22. Chapter 21

Author's Note: Hey! Sorry this update is so late. This really and truly is the chapter that doesn't end lol. In fact, it's not done, and I don't know whether to be calling this Chapter 21 Part 1 and the chapter to follow Part 2. Anyway, do not try to read this in one sitting if you don't have a lot of time. This is the length of two chapters together lol. I had a lot of fun, and I hope you have fun reading it. I will be putting up the next part very, very soon.

Reviewer Responses:

Squizles: Hello! Thanks for the review. I hope you enjoy this extra long new chapter ;).

Kou-Kagerou: Hey chic. I missed this month's..or rather last month's deadline by a long shot this time lol. But this monster is extra long to make up for it...and it's incomplete. I hope to have the rest of the chapter ready for next week. I hope you like this better than the last chapter. If you don't, remember I'm not done :). Anywhoo, you'll e-mail me and let me know what worked and what didn't lol! Love ya!

Strangedream: Lol, don't you love roommate interventions? (Well, not when you're the one having to do the intervening, but it's always interesting ;). The relationship between Dilandau, Celena, and Valeska is kinda muddy, and it'll clear in a chapter or two ;). Lol, if Van made you giggle last chapter, you'll roll about this one ;). Glad you like Folken; he's hard to characterize, and I'm always hoping that I'm not making him too unbelievable. If you've got B blood, Dilly will accept it :). I love long-winded reviews. If you haven't noticed, I'm long-winded lol, and we long-winded people should stick together :D. The one-shot... I had so much trouble trying to get this out and still missing my deadline, I didn't get a chance to write one. Maybe next time :), but thanks for the idea. I've noted it. Thanks for reviewing and I hope you like the chapter! Take care!

Imaginary Youkai: Hey! Thanks for reviewing! Hope you enjoy the new chapter!

Spoon no Miko: Lol, yeah they are thick, but people do notice that something's not right with Dilandau... but no one's making a big deal about it...yet ;). I think I had too much fun with Van in this chapter, lol. I hope you like it! Thanks for reviewing!

LadySnowBlood: Thanks! Hope you like the chapter!

Omnipotent Pyro: I think Van should maybe look into therapy too. He can come to me. I have my degree is psychology. I wonder how much to charge royalty? Hmm... lol! Glad you think I'm funny; I hope you'll still think I'm funny in this chapter! Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Koneri: Lol! Well, Hitomi's not in this chapter either. She is rather annoying. I hope you'll still enjoy my weird sense of humor. Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Nikku: So, so, so, sorry! Look, I've updated now, and the chapter is 30 pages long, and I'm still not done. The rest of the chapter will be up in a week. I got to page 30 and realized it would take me another week to finish if I put everything into that I wanted to, so I decided to go ahead and post so Nikku would stop "bugging" me ;). Lol! I don't mind. I sent you an e-mail back, but the e-mail system is being screwy and I got a delivery failure notice. So very glad you liked the last chapter and Miguel's bath lol! I think I pretty much gave you feedback in a bunch of various e-mails lol. I don't remember what all I told you, but as always, e-mail me with your questions. I'll be at work tomorrow and you know how nice I can be when I'm bored ;). Take care, I hope you like this, and I'm busy finishing up the last part of the chapter :). Much love and thanks!

Skippys Cat: Hey girl! I e-mailed you with feedback already too, lol. I'm sorry this update came so late. November was nuts! I don't think there was a time when something wasn't going on. From serving on a jury of 12 for a rape case, from cross-training on the job, to sister's wrecking cars and having hand surgery, I have not been able to find time to just concentrate and write. To make up for it, this chapter...or rather...first part of chapter is 30 pages long lol. I know you always say you don't mind the length, and I hope you meant it, lol. I'll have the next part of the chapter up very soon. I really didn't want to end this one where I did, but I had to. This chapter was getting out of control lol. I hope you like it. Thanks for reviewing; I love hearing from you :). P.S. How did your story for Writer's Month come out?

Pocketfirefairy: Hehehehe, you'll just have to see what I do about the pairing.... Muhahahahaha! Thanks for reviewing chic! Take care!

Jhaylin: Lol, last chapter was your favorite? Cool :). I'm glad you liked it. I hope you like this one just as much! Thanks for reviewing and take care!

* * *

Chapter 21

Dilandau caught Van's sword as he swung it downward with his own blade and forced the raven-haired monarch back a step, before spinning away from him and gaining some much needed distance.

Stinging sweat ran into his eyes, but he kept his eyes on his quarry. Patience and intense concentration would be the key to winning this game. He heard random cheers from his Slayers and some students that had stayed after lessons to watch Dilandau and Van's duel. Folken would kill him, if he knew what was going on. Dilandau was supposed to be meeting him at about this time, but Van's invitation had been impossible to resist.

Something in him wanted to beat Van, crush the King, and take back his lost honor. Dilandau was the more skilled fighter, and by all means, he never should have lost to Fanelia.

Those thoughts were maybe the only things keeping Dilandau on his toes. His muscles groaned at the extra exertion and his cells complained of fatigue. He hummed to himself quietly, keeping his breathing deep and even and trying to gentle the thudding of his heart.

He was pleased to note, however, that Van was panting and showing signs of wear too, perhaps more so than Dilandau.

Dilandau feinted and made a move to disarm Van, but was thrown back; he almost stumbled, but quickly regained his footing. Very good, your majesty, but I've got better.

He parried a few more of Van's moves, gracefully dancing out of the way of the other's royal sword. Van was getting frustrated; Dilandau could see it in his cinnamon eyes. The fight had gone on for much longer than it should have, because Dilandau was much too good of an opponent for Van to take down, and Dilandau- after showing rookies the proper way to hold a sword all day- lacked the arm strength to really go on the attack and claim a swift victory for himself. His only chance was to draw the fight out long enough for Van to get clumsy and give him an opening.

There it was. Dilandau kept one eye on Van and the other on his feet. The King was wearing the most ridiculous lace-up boots. They were high in courtly fashion, but low in practicality on the battle field for laces could come undone and be...

Van let out a tiny squeal as Dilandau surged forward in a false thrust and he leapt back only to find that Dilandau's foot was on his untied boot lace. Windmilling his arms comically, the dark haired boy fell in an ungainly heap of arms and legs amiss hoots and cackles from onlookers.

Dilandau chuckled himself, touching his sword to Van's neck lightly, relaxing his left arm and moping damp hair from his forehead. He did a quick assessment of the room, smiling at the boy-recruits that stared at his with stars in their eyes and his Slayers who sat, rolling their eyes at his cockiness, but clapping for him all the same.

Van grumbled his concession of defeat and Dilandau withdrew his sword, letting its tip rest on the smooth wooden floor of the once ballroom turned gym. The King was sitting up, rubbing his backside and trying to hide an embarrassed blush by keeping his head bowed.

"Good match," Dilandau offered to the defeated man and extended a hand down to him. I beat you, Van, like I should have the first time we met sword to sword. Though...

I'm glad I didn't win that time. I would have killed you, and I'm sure you knew that.

Van took Dilandau's hand, squeezing his fingers and Dilandau bit his lip on the hiss of pain that threatened to escape. Shit! He'd forgotten... Van's strong fingers pressed down hard on the injection site he'd foolishly let Folken stick in him.

Stupid... stupid...

He endured the pain and pulled Van to his feet, taking back his hand and flexing his fingers cautiously. He felt a slight trickle and a tinge of sticky dampness on his skin that wasn't sweat.

Great. It seemed like he bled for any damn thing nowadays.

"We...um...should do this again, you know? I mean, not today. Some other time, when I've gotten better. In fact..."

Dilandau was paying too much attention to his hand and trying to tuck his sword away to notice Van's stuttering. Dammit, his hands were starting to shake and he was having trouble getting his blade into its sheath. Miguel was at his side, appearing from nowhere and taking his sword from him.

"You ought to have your sword smoothed and sharpened, Lord Dilandau. It looked a little dull from where I was sitting. I'll take it down to the smith this evening."

Thank you, Miguel, for sparing me the embarrassment of having to either ask for help or fumble my sword like a beginner in public.

Dilandau smiled at Miguel and turned his attention back to Van, who had stopped speaking and was now staring at Miguel in the oddest way. Dilandau frowned. Van and Miguel could often be found staring at one another, whether it be during practice, meetings, or meals. Miguel had been behaving very strangely as of late, and Dilandau had a sneaking suspicion that it had something to do with the King.

Was there an... attraction there? Miguel had always seemed to be aroused by women, but that didn't mean one man couldn't change that.

Could Van and Miguel...?

Dilandau blinked, chewing the inside of his cheek and wanting to shake his head. What Miguel did was his business, and Dilandau would leave it alone. He shook Van's hand with his left while letting his throbbing right hand rest at his side. He prayed it wasn't bleeding much. He had on light colored pants, and blood was very hard to get out of creme washed wool.

"Great fight King Van; I especially like the part where you fell on your ass after Lord Dilandau stepped on your girly boots," Viole teased, coming up alongside Van and leaning on the King's shoulder, smirking at him devilishly.

Shaking his head, Dilandau parted ways with Van, Miguel, and Viole and joined the rest of his Slayers on the long mat spread a few in front of the large room's glass wall.

Dallet passed a canteen of water to him as soon as he'd gotten situated, and Gatty tossed a medium sized towel into his lap.

"Overdo it, milord?" Shesta asked wryly, after watching Dilandau drink deeply from the canteen and then pour some of the water over his head. The blond took his right wrist and placed two slim fingers against the pulse. Dilandau grimaced lightly, and Shesta frowned, rolling up his sleeve a bit and raising his brows. "Did he cut you?"

Dilandau shook his head. "I helped him up with the wrong hand." He glanced at the damage. Damn... Marie was going to have to reinsert it... again. The red-headed doctor was not going to be happy and neither was Folken.

Dilandau really should be meeting him now, but he had to take a shower first. He didn't want Folken to be able to tell how many activities he'd participated in by body odor alone.

"Aren't you supposed to be with Lord Folken and Dr. Marie by now?" Shesta asked, reading Dilandau's mind.

"Maybe."

"You might want to shower first. Folken will kill you, if he catches _wind_ of what all you did this afternoon," Guimel smirked. "You'd better not use the one in your room though. He'll see you sneaking past."

"Well then what one should I use then? I'm not going to the public baths." Dilandau shuddered at the thought. Astorian soldiers were quite disgusting, more disgusting than the villagers even, and he didn't want to imagine all of the bacteria and fungus he could pick up in their showers.

"Well, you could..." Shesta began, peering out the glass wall at the royal stables

below.

"Ow! Hey!"

Dilandau and Shesta looked up at the sound of the King's raised voice. "Sorry," Miguel was saying. "You really should tie your shoes, Your Highness. Would you like help? Do you know how the little bunny hops around the log?"

Van was on the floor again, glaring up at Miguel and Viole who looked the picture of perfect innocence when they noticed they had the eyes of everyone else in the room.

"Miguel and Viole have been picking at the King since he joined us. Should I have a word with them?" Gatty arched a blond brow and nodded in their direction.

Dilandau shrugged with a light frown. "Miguel and Viole pick at everyone, if you haven't noticed. They're really becoming quite the team."

"Hm," Shesta hummed, letting his lashes droop a bit.

"What?"

"Just thinking..." Shesta murmured, studying Miguel and Viole a moment. "You could ask Lord Van if you can use his bath. I'm sure he has a privy connected to his room that's larger than all of ours combined."

Guimel blinked and nudged Dilandau in the knee lightly with his elbow. "That's a good idea. Van's room isn't anywhere near where Folken, Marie, and Pearce like to haunt, and I'm sure he'll let you use it."

Dilandau rested his chin on the knee Guimel had nudged. "What makes you so sure?"

Shesta took a swig from Dilandau's canteen and gazed at Dilandau thoughtfully. "I never thought I'd ever think this of him, especially after-- well times we're not supposed to talk about anymore-- but... Lord Van's a decent guy. He's really trying to start anew with us, and I think he'd do anything to gain more favor. I wonder what made him grow up and when it happened?"

"Maybe around the same time it happened for us," Gatty snorted. "Zaibach's caused everyone hell, and... I'm glad these people...people that we've hurt... are so willing to let us help them stop the country we used to kill for. Schezar was right in some ways, you know. I wouldn't trust us either, if I was in his boots."

"And be glad you aren't, because they're unimaginably tight. I bet old Goldie Locks the cradle robber has corns the size of the hives Miguel gets when he uses lilac scented... OW! Shit, Miguel! That hurt!" Viole and Miguel had somehow managed to sneak up on them, and Viole had flopped down behind Dilandau, putting gentle arms around his neck and hugging him casually.

Miguel glared darkly at his impish comrade and sat on the other side of Gatty. "What are we discussing?"

"Our meal plans. I think we should go out tonight, guys. Remember that tavern we went to a few nights ago. The girl that worked there has the largest breasts I've ever seen, and she said if I came back..."

Dilandau made a face at Guimel's choice of conversation and pushed himself up from the floor. Gods, his knees were stiff. If his men wanted to talk about the things they did without him, he would give them the freedom to do so out of his presence. Besides, he cringed at the sweat collecting on his back and moistening his cotton shirt, he needed to see a man about a shower.

* * *

Van sat on his bed with his hands folded calmly in his lap, listening to the water running in his inhabited shower. He couldn't believe he'd agreed to it; he couldn't believe _he'd_ asked. Somehow, without Van even noticing, Dilandau had grown completely comfortable with him. One day, Dilandau was the business- minded headmaster of soldier school, lecturing Van on ways he should teach his class; the next, he was accepting challenges and undressing behind single doors and thin walls with Van... What had Van done to bring about such a change? Was it the challenge itself? A peculiar light had come on in Dilandau's eyes when Van had finally worked up the nerve to ask. Van simply wanted a little one on one time with Dilandau, but for Dilandau the spar was something else.

It was like Dilandau was proving something to himself. Van hadn't stood a chance, and as much as he thought it wouldn't matter, Van hadn't liked losing. But he was winning now wasn't he? He'd broken through some sort of wall, opened a door... maybe tomorrow he'd able to sit on the mat with Dilandau's elite and joke around.

So long as Miguel wasn't there.

Avenger had taken his hostility toward Van to another level, and he'd recruited Spirit, or Viole, to help him. While Van couldn't say he disliked Viole-- because he didn't, the boy was entertaining-- he certainly wasn't happy Viole was taking Miguel's side. The imps were putting tacks in his boots, pouring out his canteens, and taking his towels at practice.

Van knew it was them, but he just couldn't prove it! And what was worse, while he was taking the time out to get new water, locate all the sharp things in clothing, and scrounge up more towels to dry himself, he missed Dilandau.

The boy was nowhere to be found before practice, and after practice if one didn't catch him before he left, he disappeared again only to show up, sometimes, at dinner. It had something to do with Folken and the strange Zaibach woman– that wore pants– Folken had brought with him. Van had overheard some of Dilandau's men saying something about it on more than one occasion.

Why was Dilandau spending so much time with Folken?

They could be working on new battle plans and strategies. The two never failed to impress Dryden or even Allen with some of the suggestions they made to improve Astoria's defenses.

Or maybe they were having a secret affair... Nah. Not Folken. Van doubted if his brother even noticed the beautiful people that surrounded him on a day to day basis.

Maybe... Van recalled the first time he'd gazed upon Dilandau, _really_ gazed... He was perfect, an angel, but he hadn't been well. When he'd fought him aboard the floating fortress, the boy had been delirious. Now...

Now, Dilandau was still perfect, still an angel, but he still seemed...unwell. He tried hard to hide it, but Van studied the boy so intently he noticed little things like Dilandau's hand tremors and his small appetite at the table.

Van frowned, not liking to think that there could be something wrong with Dilandau. He tensed when he realized the water had stopped. What could Dilandau be doing in there? Would he dry off and put the sweaty clothes he had worn in back on, or would he come out with one of the towels hanging in Van's bathroom around his slim hips, asking to borrow something?

Was Van ready for that?

No...no... he didn't think so. Van was starting to shake with anxiety. Oh gods... He didn't know what to do. He knew he would behave strangely and make a total ass of himself, if Dilandau came out half dressed. Oh no... oh no...

Van really couldn't see Dilandau wanting to put his sweaty garments back on, so the possibility of the object of his affection coming out in a towel toga was about to be reality, if he didn't think fast.

Quickly, he scrambled to his drawers, pulling out a long, ruby tunic and searching for a pair of new undergarments that he hadn't worn yet. There. He laid the objects on the bed. There was a significant difference in Van and Dilandau when it came to height, but not width. Dilandau shouldn't have a problem with the shirt or the underwear. Pants would be a problem.

He hurried to the bathroom door, knocking lightly. "Dilandau?" His voice was so high! He coughed lightly, clearing his throat. "I've got a shirt and a pair of undershorts I've never worn that might fit you. You want to try them on?"

Good! That was good! Van patted himself on the back with an invisible third hand.

There was no answer for a minute, only the sound of a body shifting soft materials around, then the door opened a crack and a pale hand waved its fingers at Van, wishing to accept the offered clothing. Van tried to keep his head turned away from the crack, focusing on the far wall as his clothes were taken from him. A small click let Van know the lavatory door was closed again and he sank down on the floor, spreading his legs out in front of him.

Phew.

He sat, breathing deeply and composing himself for a few moments, before standing again. Dilandau was being awfully quiet in there. Van knocked again. "Hey, are you ok?"

Silence, then a soft sigh. "Do you have any bandages?"

Bandages? Van thought in alarm. He was hurt? When had that happened? Did Van... No, no, he'd been careful. Van hadn't cut Dilandau. He rummaged through his closet; he had a box... ah. He found it behind his tower of boots. He emerged from the deep closet with the small box of first aide supplies Millerna had given him a while ago.

"I've got plenty, Dilandau..." Van's skin tingled as he prepared himself to voice the next question. "Do you need any help?"

"No..." The bathroom door opened a crack again and Van turned the first aide box sideways so that he could slide it through the small opening. He felt Dilandau take it, and he let go. The door closed again and locked.

Hmph.

Van went back to his bed, plopping down and twiddling his thumbs nervously. Dilandau was in his room alone– again– without any sign of Miguel or Viole, or anyone else. This would be an excellent time for Van to ask Dilandau to... to go somewhere with him, somewhere nice. Van didn't know if Dilandau had been to visit the market place after dark. Merle had told him it was a very different and interesting place at night, and the bars and taverns were all open at that time.

They... could talk about weapons, maybe visit a sword booth, and other things. Van wanted to know more about Dilandau. He was beautiful, he was smart, he was idolized by all those he taught, but there was more to him. Van had heard Viole mention something about drawings.

Was Dilandau an artist?

Van wanted something, anything on Dilandau that would make him more than just a soldier. He wanted to know how to please him aside from being a good fighter and instructor.

The bathroom door opened, the light clicked off, and Dilandau stepped out.

He wore the soft off-white pants he'd worn in and Van's short sleeved tunic, revealing pale, graceful arms toned with slim muscles. His right hand was wrapped loosely in the bandages, and Van stared as the beige dressings slowly saturated with bright red blood.

"Dilandau, your hand... Did I...?" Van was ready to burst into apology. Gods, he'd hurt him after all!

"No," Dilandau shook his head, amused by Van's reaction. "I... did something stupid earlier. My fault entirely."

"Oh..." Van's mouth worked. Ask him now!

"Thank you for letting me use your bathroom. I didn't make too much of a mess in there. Can I leave my dirty laundry here? I'll send someone to get it. I don't want Folken to see it."

"Uh...sure," Van scratched his head. Dilandau didn't want Folken to see his dirty laundry. Dilandau didn't want Folken to know he had taken a shower.

What the hell was going on?

Dilandau must have caught his confused look, because he smiled, and Van almost looked around for the bells he swore he heard. "Your brother thinks too much activity in one day is bad for me, so I can't let him know what I've been doing."

"But...why would he think that? What does he care?" Van asked. "He doesn't tell me what to do."

"Because you won't let him get close enough to do so," Dilandau countered. "He cares a lot, Van, and... he's not so bad. You should talk to him. He would really like that."

Van wanted to groan. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Folken Fanel. Change the subject; change the subject... "Hey, what are you doing tonight?"

Oh gods, he'd started the big question!

Dilandau blinked, staring at him. "I don't know; I wouldn't make plans with me though."

Van controlled his facial expression, but could do nothing to stifle his disappointment. "Going out with your guys?"

Dilandau raised a brow; a curious look coming over his face. "Why? Would you want to go if I was?"

Was he being coy? Dilandau was harder to read than a girl!

How to answer that... Should he say, 'yes?' No, not if Dilandau was toying with him as the smirk he wore suggested that he was. Oh man... I'm not ready for this!

"You know, Van, you don't have to dance around the issue. No one will kill you, if you tag along."

Van's eyes widened and he knew his mouth was agape. Dilandau was saying 'yes!' Dilandau wanted Van's company. Dilandau...

"You don't need me to go," Dilandau continued.

Huh?

"Just stick with Shesta and Gatty and stay away from Guimel and Viole, ok? Dallet's safe ground too, but he and Guimel are joined at the hip..."

Why does Dilandau think that I'd want to hang out with his friends without him there? Van wondered. His thoughts were spiraling out of control. How had he messed this up so badly already?

"Look, Miguel can be intimidating, but if you're persistent, he'll cave in," Dilandau was shrugging.

Miguel? What about Miguel?

"You know what? I take it back; maybe you should hang out with Viole. He can give you some pointers to help you get on Miguel's good side. Miguel may act like Viole bothers him, but he loves the guy. Make friends with Viole and you're in with Miguel."

In with Miguel?

"They usually leave the castle a few minutes before dusk. I'll tell Shesta to hold the group for you," Dilandau said, no longer looking at Van. "In fact, I'll send him to get my stuff."

"I..."

"It's ok; you don't have to say anything to me. You let me use your shower." Dilandau glanced at him again, smiling brightly. "Have fun tonight, ok. I have to go."

Dilandau gave him a slap on the back and another funny smile before leaving the room and a bewildered Van behind.

Van sat down hard on the floor and laid down, spread-eagling his arms and legs and staring up at the ceiling, willing it to fall in on him.

What the hell just happened?

Dilandau thinks I like Miguel, Miguel of all people! But he encouraged it... That was good in a way. It meant he didn't frown on strange pairings, but...but...

Miguel?

Gah! And now– he smacked himself– he was scheduled for a date with Avenger, his sidekick evil Spirit, and four others who– after Dilandau told Baby-face what he suspected– would believe he had a crush on Miguel!

What a mess!

He wished Zaibach would attack. Now would be a perfect time for battle.

Save me, Zaibach!

* * *

"Where is that boy? Didn't you tell him to come here right after that little practice he insisted on going to was over?" Marie was chewing on the rubber fingers of her gloves impatiently.

Folken did his best to ignore her pacing and ranting. He chose instead to go over the procedure and check the supplies for the hundredth time that day. He studied the plastic bags of purified blood for air bubbles and checked the intravenous lines for nicks and other imperfections.

He had to have something to do, anything to keep his mind off of what he and Marie were about to do.

Gods, they were taking a chance with this.

Folken and Marie hadn't tested anyone with Dilandau's exact blood type. The best they could get was blood from a universal blood donor with negative Rh factors. Dilandau's body should accept the blood, but there was always the risk of rejection. Though, Folken and Marie had at their disposal just about everything they could think of to counteract a bad reaction, neither one wanted to put Dilandau through that.

There was one person Folken hadn't tested that he felt sure had just what Dilandau needed, but Allen Schezar hadn't wanted any part of their project. Folken hadn't even told him what it was for; the man had simply figured that it had something to do with Dilandau and or his men and declined. Folken and Marie's practices, Allen had said, reflected the unnatural ways of Zaibach that he was fighting to bring an end to.

Folken had sat in the knight's private rooms wanting nothing more than to use the sharp end of the quill Allen had refused to put down to stab the man and take the sample by force. As it was, the knight never looked up from the scroll he was scribbling on and dismissed Folken with an arrogant wave of his hand.

"Where IS that boy?" Marie was saying again. "I think we should send Pearce out to look for him, Folken. Maybe he's gotten lost, or maybe he's lost his nerve and he's hiding from us! Folken are you listening to me?"

Folken blinked. The woman had planted herself directly in front of him and was standing with her hands on her hips, glaring.

"Marie, calm down. It's very unlikely that Dilandau has gotten lost, and..." He told me he'd do this. "He'll be here."

Marie sighed and sat on the tall stool across from Folken at his table, leaning forward on an elbow. "Do you think we tried hard enough, Folken? Maybe if we gave the search another week, we could find someone better. I've done transfusions before, and universal blood has worked fine, but Dilandau's case is different than those others. He'd fare better with someone of his own blood type."

"He doesn't have a week to wait, Marie, and you know that better than I do. You're the one who insisted..."

"I know I did," Marie interrupted Folken, "and I know he can't wait. His condition is what we doctors call a 'medical emergency.' In emergencies, you use what you have, but... Gods, Folken you made me break the number one rule to being a physician!"

Folken frowned, staring at Marie as she ran gloved fingers through disheveled red hair. He realized he'd never seen the woman distressed. Marie was always the cool head in any situation.

What rule had she broken?

"We're not supposed to become attached. We care for our patients and show them kindness, but we're not supposed to get close to them." Marie glanced up at Folken, light green eyes heavy with grief. "Patients die, Folken, and if we allow ourselves to feel for each one of them..." She shook her head.

Gently, Folken reached across the table, resting his large hand over Marie's smaller one. Giving her a small hint of a grin, he said, "He gets under your skin, doesn't he?"

Marie's eyes widened and she gaped at him in complete silence for a beat, before emitting a sharp bark of laughter. She squeezed the hand Folken had offered to her and shook it like a gentlemen. "Gods, you really are developing a sense of humor, and here I thought Dilandau was delirious when he'd said it." Marie released his hand, still staring at Folken in an amused way that made Folken feel warm.

She wiped at her eyes, which had been starting to water and turned her back to him. Folken watched her shoulder rise and fall as she took a deep breath. "Thank you. I really needed that. I was getting too..."

"It's ok to let me know you're scared, Marie," Folken said softly. "I am too."

Marie half-turned, and Folken could tell she wanted to say something else. Her lips parted hesitantly, but before she could form the words, the door to the lab opened.

"I'm here. Sorry, I'm late. I got held up."

Dilandau closed the door, gazing around the room then at Folken and Marie, curiously. "What's wrong?"

Folken schooled his expression quickly, hoping Dilandau hadn't been able to read any sign of doubt on his face.

"You're late; that's what's wrong!" Marie snapped, masking her fear with irritation. "And what have you done to your hand?"

Folken zeroed in on the hand Dilandau was trying to keep behind his back. "Dilandau?"

Dilandau shrugged, holding his hand out and walking toward Folken purposefully. "I think you're going to have to use my other hand. This port is busted. Where do want me?"

Folken took the injured hand in his own, when Dilandau stopped in front of him. Dilandau had tried to bind the wound, but blood was already seeping through the bandage. Slowly, Folken unwrapped the dressing to see the damage done. He heard Marie shuffling about the room, undoubtably fluffing the cushioned chair Dilandau was to sit in and setting up his activity table. The day before, Dilandau and Shesta had brought in a satchel full of fiction, blank notebooks, and a few pencils.

"I was showing your brother something and he grabbed my hand. He just squeezed a little, but look what happened," Dilandau was murmuring as Folken stared at the loosened port and the blood that flowed freely from it as if Dilandau's hand had been cut open.

Shaking his head, Folken opened a drawer, pulling out a long roll of clean gauze. He wrapped it around Dilandau's hand, letting the blood soak through the layers and not stopping until he was satisfied the flow was slowing. "Keep your hand elevated Dilandau." He added some adhesive to the messy bandage to keep it in place.

Dilandau sighed and nodded. He studied his mummified hand for a moment, before raising tired eyes to Folken. "I still can't believe I'm letting you do this, Folken."

Folken held Dilandau's eyes, noting the shadows of exhaustion beneath them. "I'm glad you are, but lets hope we won't have to do it again."

Folken scooted back in his chair and stood, taking Dilandau by the shoulders, turning him, and steering him toward the arm chair he and Marie had borrowed from Princess Millerna's sitting room. He sat Dilandau down and knelt before him, so that they were eye to eye. "You'll feel better, when it's over."

"You keep saying that," Dilandau said with a slight smirk and Folken patted his knee. He repressed the fresh wave of fear that wanted to wash over him now that Dilandau was sitting in front of him, smiling at him with perfect trust. Dilandau was aware of the risk Folken and Marie were taking, his magenta eyes scanned the array of capped syringes full of antiserums being kept at hand just in case something went wrong. The one person in the room that really should have been afraid was completely calm. Dilandau's heavy lashes dipped onto his pale cheeks and he sighed.

"How long is this going to take again?"

"We're giving you 2 units, so about 3 to 4 hours." Folken shifted a bit and Marie brushed by him, holding a bag of dark, unoxygenated blood and proceeding to drape it from the silver IV pole beside the chair. "Are you cold?"

"Aren't I always?"

"Well, I've got a nice warm quilt to toss over you, after I'm through," Marie entered the conversation, sounding pleasantly distracted. She made a face at Dilandau's bandaged hand. "Bad boy! Now I'll have to start sticking you in the other one!"

Dilandau made a soft noise of mock outrage. "Blame Folken's brother! He did it."

Marie chuckled. "And what did you do to deserve it, hm?" She took Dilandau's wrapped hand, studying it and glancing at Folken sideways. "Nice bandaging technique. Where'd you learn?– Astoria?"

Folken rolled his eyes at her. "I stopped the bleeding."

Marie and Dilandau shared a look. "He could have made it look better," Marie whispered to Dilandau, and Dilandau nodded conspiratorially.

Folken looked heavenward, rising to his feet. "I'll get his temperature; you go ahead and hook him up to the monitors."

"One day I want to see him get pissed and start cursing at us," Dilandau said to Marie who laughed.

"You'd have better luck getting Allen Schezar to proclaim his love for you."

They laughed as Folken sighed. He collected the thermometer from the small supply tray behind Marie. "Open your mouth, Dilandau."

He slid the slim, glass cylinder under Dilandau's tongue and rested a cool palm on his forehead. "Are you wet?"

"Hm?" Dilandau's look was bit too innocent, and Folken wisely decided he didn't want to know.

"Alright kid, look here," Marie got Dilandau's attention. She tapped the tiny monitor she'd slipped over his left index finger. "This is giving us your pulse rate and blood pressure. I know you're familiar with the device, but I have to make it clear to you that though we will be receiving your vitals through a machine, it is still very important for you to tell us if you begin to feel strange or uncomfortable."

Dilandau nodded. Marie removed the thermometer and glanced at it. "Hm. You're a little above normal, but that's probably as good as it's going to get with you." She set the thermometer aside. "Flex your arm, the same one with the monitor in it."

Folken watched Marie tap the tender flesh on the inside of Dilandau's elbow, trying to find a good vein. Dilandau turned his head away, choosing instead to look at Folken. "Are you gonna stay and keep me company, Folken?"

"I thought I was as interesting as drying paint, Dilandau," Folken remarked. Dilandau's eyes widened and Marie giggled.

"I said that one, Folken dear," she chimed. Marie swabbed her chosen entry point with antiseptic before inserting the needle and line. Dilandau tensed a bit, biting his lip then relaxing.

Marie petted his head. "Ok, hard part's done and over with." She shook out a colorful quilt she'd brought from her own room and spread it over Dilandau's lap. "Alright, I'm going to be in my little office. I'll be back out in an hour in a half to switch the units. Watch the feed, Folken. If it starts going too fast, call me. Don't try to fix it yourself."

Folken nodded, ignoring the odd little smirk Dilandau wore. He was certain the boy would tell him the reason behind it as soon as Marie left, and he was sure that reason would be annoying.

"Relax and try to get a little sleep. You look like you could use some." Marie straightened the quilt and moved to exit a side door that led to a smaller lab where Marie kept the medicals books she'd gotten from Lord Dryden.

The door closed and Folken scowled at Dilandau who was still smirking. "All right, Dilandau, what is it?"

"Dr. Marie's got you on a tight leash. Do you get a rash around your neck when she jerks your chain?"

Folken narrowed his eyes. "What are you insinuating, Dilandau?"

"That Marie wears the trousers around this place." Dilandau leaned back in his chair, gazing up at the bag of blood over his head. "Did you guys get all of that from one person?"

"No," Folken said, then after thinking over Dilandau's previous statement said, "and you try disobeying Marie. Even Pearce tiptoes around her."

Dilandau snickered and stifled a yawn. Folken sat in a chair he had set up across from Dilandau. It made him feel better having Dilandau close to him. Folken didn't know quite what he thought he was protecting Dilandau from, but he felt as if he was fulfilling a familial duty. Dilandau's lids drooped and his lashes fluttered over his cheeks. "You know, your brother doesn't make a bad teacher."

"Oh?" Folken said, half-interested. Dilandau often brought up the topic of Van and how the two were getting along in his presence. At first, Folken simply thought Dilandau was simply reminding him that he was keeping his promise not to hurt Van, but after a while Folken became convinced that Dilandau was plotting something.

He wondered if Van got the same vibes, but every time he caught glimpses of Van near Dilandau, he seemed... elated. His brother really enjoyed Dilandau's company. Maybe the two really did discover they had something in common and had become friends. Dilandau certainly spoke highly of Van, and it was irksome that Folken didn't know how Van spoke of Dilandau. In the strategy meetings where the officials all got together and discussed war tactics, equipment, and foreign affairs, Van doted on every word Dilandau spoke, always the first to agree on whatever stance Dilandau took in a debate.

It was strange, but if Folken didn't know better, he'd almost want to say his brother had a crush on Dilandau. Sometimes, Folken caught the boy staring, but he shrugged it off. Dilandau was a rare vision, and people often did stare at him. Allen Schezar did, but Folken was very sure the knight didn't have a crush on Dilandau.

"Yeah. He's really shaping up. He's not so clumsy." Dilandau's voice was drowsy.

"Are the Slayers starting to get along with him better?" Folken remembered that there had been some tension between some of the Slayers and Van.

Dilandau chucked, and Folken glanced at him to see that his eyes were still closed. "There's still a little tension, but I've figured out why."

"What's so funny about it?" Folken looked over at the small table of activities for Dilandau and wished Marie had put activities for him there as well.

One magenta eyes opened and peered at Folken wickedly. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

Folken frowned at the young man's teasing tone. "What?"

"Say please and I might tell you."

Folken rolled his eyes and actually picked up one of Dilandau's well worn books. _The Last Herald Mage_? Who would have known Dilandau was into fiction, much less fantasy stories? Thumbing through the marked up pages, Folken sighed. "Please?"

Both of Dilandau's eyes opened then and he leaned forward on his knees with an impish grin. Folken gazed at him curiously, closing the book.

"Your little brother's got a crush."

Folken nearly choked. Oh gods, he'd been right! Van had a crush on...

"He likes Miguel."

Miguel?

"They're always staring at each other and there's like this silent communication that goes on between them at times."

Folken blinked. Hm... Van and Miguel? He never would have suspected that one, but Dilandau was closer to Van than Folken was– much closer– and could see what Folken was not allowed to. Now that he did think about it though, he'd caught the two gazing at one another on more than one occasion, and they did exchange words in close proximity.

Van and Miguel?

Folken tried to sort out how he felt about it. His little brother liked men, and all that time on the Vione he and the Emperor had thought Van was in love with the girl from the Mystic Moon. How wrong they'd been about him...unless, Van wasn't completely gay. Maybe Miguel was the only man Van liked.

It would certainly explain the metamorphosis Van had gone through, marking the day of the Slayers' arrival. The boy had suddenly started dressing and acting like a prince. Miguel was a very proper boy of noble blood and he did appreciate things like fine clothing and good etiquette. Van was going about pursuing him in the right way, and now that Dilandau knew...

"Oh Dilandau, are you trying to help him out?" It could spell disaster. Dilandau could all but force Miguel to go out with his brother for his very own amusement. What did Dilandau really care about Van anyway?

Dilandau winked. "Maybe a little."

Folken bristled.

"Don't worry; I'm not pushing anything. I'm just buying him ample opportunities to make his move. The guys go out every night just before dark, and I got him invited."

Van was going to be alone with all six of Dilandau's men outside of the castle at night?

"Hey! I know what you're thinking. I told him who to stay away from, and I've filled Shesta in on everything. He's going to look after Van."

Folken relaxed a little. Shesta was a good boy, and the others listened to him. Good. Van was safe as long as he didn't veer away from the blond, but he still worried. He didn't know the other Slayers' feelings about same sex relationships; he didn't know Miguel's feelings on the topic. Folken had seen some brutal beatings in Zaibach and even once when he was younger in Astoria on the account of innocent same sex crushes. He didn't want Van to be a victim.

Folken was ok with it; Dilandau was amused by it; Shesta obviously must have had no problem, but gods, Dilandau... Do you always have to be so impulsive?

"Hey Folken?"

"Hm?"

"You don't have to worry about your little brother tonight; he'll be fine," Dilandau said gently, letting his eyes close again and reclining in the chair. Sighing softly, he rolled over sightly, partially obscuring his face from Folken's view and pulling his knees to his chest.

Folken blinked. Van was strong, and he'd proven more than once that he could take care of himself, but still Dilandau was wrong. He stood again, going to Dilandau and adjusting the quilt around the boy's slim, weary frame.

Brushing damp silver hair off his forehead, Folken thought, I do have to worry about my little brother tonight. Sleep well, Dilandau. I'm not going anywhere.

* * *

Shesta giggled to himself as he brushed his hair in the mirror. Saffron locks tumbled into his field of vision and he blew them aside. He would have grabbed a pair of shears and trimmed his hair, but he kept recalling how the young ladies in the Princess' court responded to his shaggy new look. Even Viole had gained some favor with his silly ponytail. However, the one the ladies really admired was Miguel. Shesta giggled again, parting his hair down the middle and brushing his locks to the side. He wanted to be able to see tonight.

"What are you sniggering about, Shes? You're getting on my nerves," Gatty snapped. He was sitting spread eagle in front of Shesta's bed, polishing his boots on a dingy white towel he'd spread over the rose carpet.

Why Gatty couldn't shine his shoes in his own room, Shesta did not know, but he would kill Gatty if he stained the rug. "Perhaps you should go back to your own room, then you wouldn't have to listen to me."

Gatty snorted. "Eh... It's too quiet in there. I'm not used to having my own room. Never had one before."

Shesta had never had one before either, and he for one would like to know what it felt like to have complete privacy. He set the brush on the small vanity and trekked across the room to his closet. He'd chosen to wear a short-sleeved, blue tunic and black slacks, but he felt the ensemble was missing something.

Shesta's sky blue eyes skimmed the contents of his sparsely populated closet. A closet for a noble filled with a soldier's meager belongings. It was a waste of good closet space, but Shesta wasn't complaining. Maybe one day he'd fill this closet. Miguel certainly was doing an excellent job of filling his...

Shesta chuckled again, his eyes lighting upon his black belt with the velvet dagger pouch. Of course, a weapon. That was what he was missing. Though he was off duty, a soldier was never supposed to leave home without some means of protection for himself and others.

"You're doing it again! What the hell is so funny? You had better not be laughing about me!"

"And what if I am?" Shesta asked, not really caring to hear the answer. He pulled the belt down and strapped it around his waist. There. Now to find a suitable dagger to match...

"Shesta!" Gatty shouted, sounding exasperated, and Shesta whirled to see him still sitting in the same position but no longer holding his boots. He had greasy hands on his hips... good thing he was wearing leather pants... and glaring at Shesta.

Shesta looked at his own boots, contemplating what he should do. On one hand, he was itching to tell someone; on the other hand, he'd told Lord Dilandau he wouldn't say a word to embarrass Van or Miguel.

He snickered again, just thinking about what Lord Dilandau had revealed to him in confidence. And the pure fact that Lord Dilandau was trying to set them up... He doubled over laughing at the memory.

Miguel Lavariel and King Van Slanzar de Fanel!

"Shesta!" Gatty was roaring.

"I can't, Gatty! I promised!" Shesta wailed through hopeless pearls of laughter. He fell to his knees, chuckling and trying to breathe. Oh gods... Miguel's behavior as of late, Miguel staring at Van, Miguel not wanting Van to join them and pulling Viole aside all the time...

Eh gads, Miguel was in love!

And Van!– the last time Shesta had seen the boy he'd been dressed in rags. Now he looked the portrait of courtly fashion. He never wore the same outfit twice, and whenever he saw Miguel, he hurried to be on the other side of the room from him. Butterflies!

The King was in love!

And Lord Dilandau– brilliant strategist, fierce warrior, and awesome leader– was playing match maker!

Shesta was knocked over by something heavy and forced his eyes open to find Gatty on top of him, pinning him to the floor. "What...is...so...funny?" Gatty hissed, his face inches from Shesta's.

Gatty's face blurred in and out of focus as Shesta tried to blink tears from his eyes. "Get....get...off!"

"Shesta!" Gatty wailed, shaking him. "What is it? I'll strangle you, if you don't tell me what you're laughing about!"

"I'm more... afraid... of Lord Dilandau... than you!" Shesta whooped, trying to shove Gatty off.

"What does Lord Dilandau have to do with this? Hey... he told you a secret, didn't he? You know I'm first in command. Lord Dilandau's secrets are my secrets, and I order you to tell me!"

Shesta stared at Gatty's serious expression, blinking once, then twice, and lost it. He started cackling again, bucking Gatty off and rolling onto his side. Oh, his stomach hurt.

"Shesta, come on! I won't tell anyone else, I promise! Lord Dilandau trusts me too! Come on!"

Shesta was shaking his head 'no.'

"Oh... I'll... I'll take that bumbling idiot Cortez off your hands and trade him for Lanier."

Hm. Shesta sobered a bit at hearing that offer. His training sessions with the young recruits were going exceptionally well, except for this one boy, Cortez, who just wasn't getting it. He could barely wield an eating utensil much less a staff or sword.

"Ok."

Shesta reasoned with himself: 1). Lord Dilandau would have told Gatty, but Shesta just happened to be the first person he found. 2). Gatty would have found out eventually anyway. 3). Shesta... had to tell somebody!

Gatty waited for Shesta to sit up on his knees and catch his breath. "King Van Fanel has a thing for our very own Miguel Lavariel, and Lord Dilandau and I think Miguel likes the King back!"

Gatty's eyes bugged out of his head and he choked incredulously for a moment, before speaking. "What?"

"Lord Dilandau found out from Van himself!"

Gatty's mouth hung agape in shock. He rubbed his chin, deep in thought before his face stretched into a giant grin. "That would definitely explain Miguel and Viole's weird behavior, well weirder than usual, and the King's change of dress, and his interest in the team..."

The blonds stared at each other before breaking into simultaneous laughter.

"And Van's coming out with us tonight. Lord Dilandau invited him to hang out with me, so I can help get him close to Miguel!"

They roared.

"And you weren't going to tell me?" Gatty demanded, wiping his eyes.

"I said I would keep my mouth closed, but... but..." Shesta giggled. "Don't... don't tell anyone Gatty. Lord Dilandau might get angry."

"Lord Dilandau's probably laughing his ass off about this. I wish he was here so I could see his face. Maybe we should go visit him..."

"Then he'll know I told!"

"We'll say I figured it out!" Gatty said. "I mean, now that you think about it, it's very obvious something's going on between those two. Why not love?"

They contained themselves a few seconds, before falling over one another laughing again.

"Oh my stomach, my sides, my mouth..." Shesta was moaning. "How am I going to act around Van and Miguel?"

"I don't know, but we leave in a bit. Don't you have to go get Van?" Gatty sniffled, slicking hair out of his eyes.

"Yeah..." Shesta bit his lips on the chuckle that wanted to escape. "I'd better go get him now in fact." Control yourself, Shesta...

"I'll...meet you guys out front." He rose from the floor slowly, wiping his face and schooling his expression. He cleared his throat and looked at Gatty meaningfully. "Don't say anything to anyone else, Gatty. I'm serious."

He left his room, closing the door and having to use the wall for support when he started laughing again.

This was going to be an interesting evening indeed.

* * *

"What?" Miguel exclaimed. He stared at Gatty, waiting for the punch line for the blond looked very amused with himself. "You cannot be serious! We have to see that moron all day! Why in the world would we want him tagging along with us at night, when we're free?"

Gatty shrugged, keeping his mouth pressed into a straight line. He blinked and turned away from Miguel, blue eyes sparkling at Guimel and Dallet who looked as confused as Viole

"Who invited him?" Miguel wanted to know. He looked at Viole, who shook his head. They stood near the stone benches of the courtyard dressed casually and ready for their routine night on the river walk. Astoria was a beautiful place to be after hours, and even Miguel was impressed with the wealth of the culture and community. There was a restaurant on the east bridge he wanted to try out, and he'd convinced the others to give it a chance. If he had known someone was going to invite the King, Miguel wouldn't have pressed so hard for them to eat there that night. Van's vile presence would spoil his appetite.

The King's endless pursuit of Lord Dilandau was shameless, and Miguel wondered why Lord Dilandau hadn't picked up on some of Van's advances. Offering challenges, asking for advice on which sword hand to use for different moves... Van was always trying to find reasons for Lord Dilandau to tutor him privately.

"Shesta and I thought it would be nice," Gatty said in an oddly choked voice. He kept his back to Miguel, but from the looks on Guimel and Dallet's faces Miguel could tell Gatty's expression must have been strange.

"Is something going on, Gatty?" Dallet asked. He had one leg bent at the knee and propped on a stone mermaid shaped bench. Guimel lounged beside him like a long-legged spider with his chin on his knees. He stared up at Gatty in amusement through brown tipped lashes.

"Tell us willingly, Gatty, or we'll beat it out of you later."

Gatty shook his head vigorously, his shoulders quaking a bit, and Miguel frowned.

"Why did you and Shesta believe it would be nice to invite that annoying runt of a field rat along?" Miguel grabbed Gatty by the shoulders, spinning him around. He wanted to see his face! What in Gaea was wrong with him?

The blue eyes that met Miguel's were wide, watery and dancing with mirth. Gatty shook Miguel's hands off his shoulders, fighting to keep his trembling lips from...smiling? "We just did ok! Lord Dilandau suggested it. Now leave me alone, Miguel!"

"Gatty, what is the matter with you?" Viole asked. "You're acting like– well, me."

Gatty squirmed– he squirmed! "Nothing's the matter with me. What's the matter with you, asking me all these questions. How about we talk about something else, huh? What's the name of this place you're taking us to dinner, Miguel? If you suggested it, it must be someplace nice. Romantic maybe?"

Miguel glared at Gatty. By the gods, he _was _doing a very good impression of Viole! "Romantic?" Guimel snorted. "I'm not going to any place where they sell pink beer, Miguel. I want to go to the tavern with Molly big breast!"

"We went to that dump last week!" Miguel's nostril's flared. "Tonight we go to a place with class, where the natives don't discard clam shells on the floor!"

"There were some peanut shells down there too, Miguel."

"Shut up, Viole!" Miguel snapped. He placed his hands on his hips and glared at his team who peered at him humorously. Why was he always the joke? He simply wanted to expose them to finer things, mold them into gentlemen...

"Miguel, if you keep making that face, it's going to freeze that way," Viole quipped with that annoying, impish grin of his. He plopped down on the other side of Guimel to study the sculpted stone mermaid's full breast. "Someone broke the nipple."

"I noticed that," Guimel said. "Wonder how they managed it."

Miguel sighed, pulling at his perfected groomed brown hair. There was no hope for any of them, he guessed, and why did no one but him care that they had an intruder? This was their evening getaway, and it was rude for outsiders to include themselves! To add insult to injury, the invitee was none other than Van Fanel. The only good thing about him coming along was that he wouldn't be unsupervised in the castle with Lord Dilandau.

And if Miguel could get him alone without having to worry about the prying eyes of his comrades, he could give the King what for and maybe scare him away from Lord Dilandau for good.

Hm.

"Hey everybody, look who I've brought!" Shesta stepped through the tall hedges with Van Fanel in tow, a cheesy smile plastered on his face. His eyes glittered in the same way Gatty's had earlier when they landed on Miguel. Quickly, Shesta averted his eyes, choosing to speak to Gatty. "King Van is going to join us this evening. Lets make him feel welcome, ok?"

"Great to have you, Your Majesty," Gatty said, his voice an octave higher than usual. He and Shesta shared a look and immediately turned away from each other, Shesta facing Miguel and biting his lips, hard, and Gatty looking at the grass.

"They're seriously starting to scare me," Miguel heard Guimel utter to Dallet.

"Think they drank the happy water those soldiers were passing out in the boiler room?" Dallet asked.

"If they start prancing like ponies and clucking like chickens, we'll have an answer to that," Guimel said.

Miguel shook his head. He decided to ignore his comrades. He pushed past Shesta and stared at Van. "So you want to spend the night with us?"

Van met Miguel's intense stare right on, his brown eyes searing. "I guess I do. I was invited by your leader."

"Nice of you to flaunt that fact. I guess that means we'll have to take care of you," Miguel said cooly. Narrowing his eyes, he hissed for Van's ears alone, "I'll show you a great time, Your Majesty."

There was a muffled sound from Shesta and Miguel whirled to stare at him. The blond pretended to cough. "Well, what do you say we get going? Miguel has a great place he wants to take us to tonight. Lead the way, Miguel."

Miguel blinked, getting the feeling that he was going to be strangling Shesta and Gatty before the night was over. Lifting his chin and striding forward, Miguel called over his shoulder, "Come on then. I don't know what kind of a wait they're going to have, and I refuse to sit by the kitchens."

Viole jogged to catch up to him and stopped at his side. "Why would Van want to come out with us, if Lord Dilandau's not going to be here?"

"I don't know," Miguel mumbled. "Maybe he thinks if he can get in with us, he's in with Lord Dilandau. Shesta and Gatty appear to like him a lot; they could invite him on more of our outings."

Viole whistled. "Well, I guess it's our job to make sure this evening is a disaster then... for Van." Viole held out a fist as if he held a fine drinking glass.

"For Van," Miguel toasted Viole's false crystal with one of his own.

* * *

"Did you see the way Miguel walked right up to him?" Shesta was whispering as he tugged Gatty's sleeve.

"I saw the 'look' and the whisper," Gatty giggled softly, then waved at Guimel and Dallet who were staring at Shesta and him. Van walked in front of them in his fine courtly garb of silk and leather just behind Miguel and Viole who led the pack through the stone streets of the vivacious market place.

"Trinkets from around the world!" a vendor in a large hat cried, arms spread wide, gesturing at the splendor of his wooden booth adorned with strange foreign ornaments.

"Daggers! Knives! Blades of all sizes and makes!" A fat man bedecked in golden robes bellowed, twirling a pair of sai expertly in his hands, the fine silver facets catching the light of the flames from the fire eater's circle.

"Maybe we should leave them alone for dinner?" Gatty suggested. "It would be easy for us to 'accidentally' be separated." Looking behind him, Gatty saw that they'd already lost Guimel and Dallet to a platform of scantily dressed, barefoot belly dancers.

"Miguel would be so pissed," Shesta said, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the rhythmic drumming of an all percussion band playing nearby. "He all but begged us to go to this place."

Gatty ducked as a juggler lost one of his balls and it whizzed over his head. "He'll get over it, especially if he can spend quality time with Van."

They chuckled and pushed their way through a small gathering of people watching a puppet show.

"Jewelry! Rubies, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires, pearls...!"

"Hot sausage! Roasted salmon on a stick!"

They lost sight of Miguel, Van, and Viole, but it was just as well. Group dates were no fun.

Gatty grabbed Shesta's elbow. "Lets find a confectionary stand."

"Great idea. We can buy Miguel and Van a souvenir of their first date!"

Together they howled and vanished within the crowd.

* * *

Viole stopped at more than one booth, cart, and shop along the way, but Miguel always grabbed him dutifully by the collar and dragged him away, forcing him back into step. Miguel was a man possessed when it came to getting what he wanted, and Viole didn't have the heart to tell him that their group had dispersed. The only person that still followed was King Van, though he was quickly falling behind too, entranced by all of the sparkly displays and spicy-sweet aromas...

He yelped as he was caught by the scruff of his neck again.

"There it is, Viole," Miguel pointed to a nice little restaurant made of stone with loopy white writing in its windows. "Now, I expect you all..." Miguel had halted and turned to address the perfect strangers and Van who stood behind them.

"Where..." Miguel stuttered and Viole tittered lightly. "Those...those... liars! They said they were going to come! One nice evening was all I asked!"

"Relax, Miguel. We can still have a nice evening," Viole recovered and laid a hand on Miguel's stooped shoulder to comfort him. Miguel could be so sensitive about these sort of things. "I'll use every rule of etiquette my mother and 7 wacky sister ever taught me, and look..."

Viole pointed at Van. "We've still got one guest."

The King's attention was elsewhere. A troop of players was announcing a show they were to put on in a few minutes and requesting volunteers from the audience to play key roles in the production.

Viole's heart leapt and a large grin nearly split his face in two. "Make that: _you_'ve got one guest, Miguel! Tell me how dinner went!"

Before Miguel could snatch him back, Viole was bouncing into the crowd, waving his arms and shouting loudly to be picked.

A grinning elf dressed in holiday green slipped a garland of leaves onto his head, crowning him Erlking, and Viole was lost in the fantasy of show business.

* * *

Lady Chastity's was a fancy restaurant with round cherry wood tables draped in fine linen and topped with lit candelabra. The dishes were real china and the utensils were pure silver. Menus printed on preserved scrolls in elegant cursive were distributed by hosts who guided people to their tables and assured them that a fine waiter or waitress would be out shortly to serve them.

Van sat across from a very sullen Miguel, spreading a thick crimson napkin over his lap. They'd started off as a group of seven, but they'd arrived at the restaurant as a couple of two. Van hadn't noticed the others bowing out until they were gone, and he felt sure Spirit– er– Viole had been with them just a moment earlier.

When he'd asked Miguel where their group had gone, he'd received a snarl and decided to keep quiet. He was surprised Miguel even still wanted to enter the establishment with Van as his only company. Miguel had ushered Van in front of him and requested a table for two away from the kitchen and not in the pipe section. The female hostess had winked at them in a way that made Van cringe and Miguel utter something crude under his breath about her.

A tall waiter with a curling moustache approached the table to take their drink orders.

"White wine," Miguel said, before Van could open his mouth. "Bring the bottle."

The waiter lifted a brow at the brunette boy, but relented as Miguel stared him down with his glacial blue eyes. He bowed and left the table.

"I'm not much of a drinker," Van said, testing a line of communication to see what would happen.

Miguel gave him a dull look. "The wine isn't for you."

Oh. Well, he could have said something. Van nodded and picked up a menu, holding like a shield in front of his face and going over the entrees. By the time the waiter returned with Miguel's wine and basket of fresh buttered bread, Van had his dinner decision.

"Are we ready to order, sirs?"

"Bring me the special," Miguel said, reaching for one of the crystal goblets circling the candelabra. He filled the wine glass to the brim and took a sip, turning to gaze out of the bay window onto the sparkling, midnight waters below.

"I'll have the beef stew."

"Excellent choice... Your Majesty," the waiter smiled politely and took the menu from his hands and Miguel's off the table. He left briskly, stopping at another table when beckoned.

"You'll do well not to order beef stew, if you ever end up somewhere with Lord Dilandau," Miguel muttered, not setting down his wine glass or looking at Van.

"Huh?" Van jerked in surprise, staring at Miguel. Avenger was talking to him? "Why...why not?"

"He doesn't like meat of any kind, and beef has the most pungent smell."

Van frowned and Miguel finished his wine and poured himself another glass.

"Why are you telling me this?" Van asked. "And why are we here? I expected you to toss me aside, once you realized your friends were gone."

Miguel hummed, sipping his wine and sizing up Van. "I wanted to eat here, and it's improper to dine alone, so either I bring you or I end up hunting down Viole and gobbling greasy sausages again."

"But you hate me," Van reminded Miguel. "You think I'm a pervert."

Miguel nodded, saluting Van with his empty wine glass. "I'm glad there's no misunderstanding between us."

Van shook his head, reaching for the bread basket and cutting himself a thick slice of white bread. Never in his worst nightmare had he ever dreamt of having a romantic candle lit dinner with Avenger, but maybe the gods had planned this occasion for a reason. Van could try to clear the air between them. Miguel falsely thought Van's intentions were less than virtuous with his leader, and Van was going to set him straight.

"Look Miguel, I don't know what impression I gave you in that prison cell, or what aura I'm emitting now, but I'm not a pervert." Van set his bread on the tiny plate in front of him while holding Miguel's gaze.

"I... have never experienced emotions like the ones I feel for...Lord Dilandau. I don't know what I'm doing, or what's going on, but I only want to be close to him. I don't plan on throwing him down or something and having my wicked way with him, if that's what you're supposing. I don't even know what a 'wicked way' is. I'm just... We're the same age, I assume. You know how you get curious. Don't you experiment?"

"Not with other boys," Miguel said, tossing back another glass of wine and smirking at Van darkly.

Van analyzed his tone and felt something queer come over him. Miguel wasn't trying to keep him away from Dilandau because he was afraid Van would steal his beloved leader's innocence. Miguel was against same sex relationships.

Van had expected prejudice and that was why he'd told no one of his yearnings, but actually running into one so bluntly was a slap in the face. Why did he never suspect that what Miguel held over him might not be personal?

"It's just wrong," Miguel breathed, leaning forward a bit and cutting a piece of bread for himself. "I mean, I won't condemn people for their practices, and I know a lot of my comrades don't care. I know some of them may have...experimented... as you so put it, but Lord Dilandau's not like that. He's pure, not innocent, but untainted. He doesn't think about relationships in the way we do. He doesn't go on about attractions and romance; well, he never did."

Van took a bite of bread, not speaking in hopes that Miguel would continue.

"But he's changing." Miguel poured more wine. "One day, he is going to talk about special people that make him feel things, and I'd like for him... to have a fair chance at looking at both sides of the spectrum without any influence from you."

Van blinked. Miguel was staring into his wine glass, swirling the amber liquid around. "And do you really perceive me as that much of a threat?"

Miguel looked up at him sharply. "I don't know. I thought you would have gone away by now, but you're still here. So you tell me, are you?"

Van finished off the bread and Miguel finished off the bottle of wine, requesting another. A violinist came by, playing a soft tune for them that went unappreciated by both parties.

Check please.

* * *

"What's sad about this is Viole's actually really good, and I'm enjoying myself," Guimel was shaking his head. He and Dallet shared a wooden crate, watching the romantic comedy being put on by... "Who are these guys again?"

"The Surfside Players..." Dallet said. He had a large bag of honey roasted nuts in his lap that Guimel dipped into every few moments. "...and while I'd prefer a satire, I guess this is pretty good. Viole's the best guy they got, though. We're going to have to beat the Players off him with a stick. They'll want to keep him."

Guimel made a face and fished out a almond. "Is he worth the effort?"

Dallet shrugged. "Lord Dilandau would miss him."

Guimel chuckled. "We can always say Miguel finally did away with him."

"Eh, those two have been almost chummy lately. Lord Dilandau will never buy it. Lets just face it. We're going to have to rescue Viole."

"Shh!" a plump woman in a long green dress hissed at them. "Reinaldo is talking!"

Prince Reinaldo, the main antagonist and Viole's cousin, was trying to steal Viole's maiden by telling her horrible things about him that were absolutely true. Enter Viole, the brilliant but blunt Erlking, Alujin, brandishing his shiny fake sword. One slice and Reinaldo's baggy clown pants were around his ankles and the crowd was in stitches.

"He should try that move in practice," Dallet crunched on a pecan.

"Yeah, but how often do you fight someone wearing clown pants?" Guimel wondered, taking the bag of nuts and shaking it up to bring the almonds to the top. "Aw Dally, we ate all the almonds."

"Next time, you should just get a sack of them, Guimel. I'm tired of you picking through the bag," Dallet groaned, snatching back the sack and grabbing a handful of random nuts.

Guimel sneered then flinched when the man sitting next to him coughed in his direction. "Switch me seats, before I hit this guy. He's got the plague or something!"

"Stop mimicking Miguel," Dallet said through a mouth full of food.

Guimel play punched him, the motion causing Dallet's nuts to tip over a bit. His partner caught the bag before it could fall. "You wouldn't have caught me that fast if I was falling."

"No," Dallet cheerfully agreed, "I wouldn't have."

Guimel snickered and a thought hit him. Speaking of Miguel... "Hey, you think Miguel still went to that Chastity place? I feel really bad about ducking out on him and all, but I didn't feel like rubbing elbows with anymore snobs tonight. We get enough of it in the palace."

"He's probably there now, calling us neanderthals," Dallet said. The crowd ooh'ed and Dallet and Guimel rose to a standing position for a better view of Viole kissing the beautiful Princess Helena, who was not the girlfriend he had started off with that the devious Reinaldo was trying to woo.

"Wow, looks like Viole wasn't lying when he said he was a good kisser. Damn. Helena wasn't expecting that! Look at her hands... all over him!" Dallet crowed as Guimel whistled.

"Hey, if Viole's here, that means he didn't go to dinner with Miguel either," Guimel realized.

"Poor guy."

"Oh come off it. You know Gatty and Shesta went," Guimel said. He and Dallet sat back down as Viole and Helena separated, Helena fanning herself and blushing in a very unprofessional way. Viole went down on one knee and proclaimed his love for her.

Women sighed; men groaned, and Guimel and Dallet laughed.

"I think we should try to find that Chastity's place. Miguel can't stay too mad at us if we buy him dessert," Dallet said, chewing as he'd just chomped on a handful of sawdust.

Guilt could do that to a body.

Guimel sighed. Miguel had been really excited about tonight, and even though Guimel knew the evening would have been an awful bore, Miguel was his friend. And– he was really touchy when people didn't want to do things with him.

"Oh... stupid conscience," Guimel grumbled. He watched Viole turn a series of back handsprings ending in a somersault to the delight of the crowd. "I always knew he was part monkey. "

The man sitting beside Guimel started hacking again, and that was Guimel's signal to get up. "Come on, Dallet. We'll have to ask Viole to reenact his performance later. We got a date with nobility... and Miguel."

* * *

"You have really had enough."

Miguel tittered as Van tried to take his wine glass from him. Silly King, the glass was empty! Oh no, no wait... there was still a little more... He was able to drain the last drop from the crystal before Van extracted it from him.

"If you wanted a glass, Van, you could have just asked. That was very un-royal of you... but then again, you only just now learned how to be a royal..." Miguel shook his finger in Van's face then hiccuped. Ooh... that wasn't polite.

Excuse me!

"It's time to go," Van was saying, wadding up his napkin and setting it in his empty stew bowl. Stew! He was in a freakin' million star restaurant and he ordered stew! Miguel began to laugh.

"See you later, King-ling! Glad you came out with me! Drinking alone is bad... I think, at least that's what I hear!" Miguel scratched his head. Drinking alone supposedly meant one had problems. Miguel had problems... but he hadn't drunk alone, so maybe they weren't _his _problems.

No, not his problems. They were Viole's, and Shesta's, and Gatty's, and Guimel's and Dallet's! How dare they stand him up! Lord Dilandau would have come. He was Miguel's friend, unlike the others.

"I'm not leaving you here by yourself, Miguel. You're drunk." Miguel squinted at both Kings that got up from a single chair–had one sat in the other's lap?– and came toward him. He frowned, shrinking away from the twin monarchs' hands and tumbling from his seat.

The floor was hard and cold under his butt and he stared up at the long table cloth and at the Vans. Someone else came by too and ogled him.

Nosy waiter.

"Will you be needing assistance, Your Highness?"

"No, thank you. I think I can handle this guy on my own." Miguel heard Van assure Mr. Nosy.

Miguel groaned, tired of having to tilt his head back to see everyone. Lets stand, shall we? He struggled to stand, gripping his chair and then the table top. Goodness, he was tall. He wobbled on his feet, but grinned at being able to meet everyone at eye level once again.

"Good evening!" he greeted everyone who pretended not to stare in his direction. "Lets go, Miguel," Van hissed at him and Miguel jumped, bumping the table and turning over the empty bottle of wine still on the table. Miguel frowned, lifting the bottle and shaking it.

After 3 bottles, he was still thirsty. "Can I get a refill on this?"

"No," Van growled, and Miguel yelped as hard fingers dug into his shoulders and he was propelled through the dining room to the glass door. He tried to walk one foot in front of the other, but his feet kept growing! Tripping was inevitable, and he was prepared to sample the fine wood of the floor. The food and wine had been so good, Miguel wondered if the floor would be tasty as well.

He never got to find out. Strong arms caught him around the waist and held him steady as the ceiling and floor swapped places. That's cheating! No fair doing that while I'm trying to walk!

"I've got you," Van's weary voice said from behind. "Gods know why..."

A cool sea breeze rushed up to tap Miguel on the nose and run its windy fingers through his hair, and he laughed, suddenly inspired. Van, a single Van, was closing the door to Chastity's, and Miguel sprang at him.

The shorter boy was quick to squeak and hold out both arms to catch Miguel and keep him from vaulting through the glass.

He caught me! "Van! You.. Love me more than my friends! They would have let me crash through that glass and laughed at me!"

"Easy Miguel, you're drunk." Van pushed him away, but kept a steadying hand on his arm. "You're saying a lot of thing you don't mean, and you'll regret tomorrow."

"How can I regret learning that you... are a great guy!" Miguel pulled away from Van, grinning at him unabashedly. "You came out to dinner with me though I'm an absolute beast to you! You listened to me talk about my no good friends and how they ditch me and make fun of me every chance they get!"

He whirled around, greeting the men and women that smiled in his direction. "Just wait til I find those guys. I'm gonna give them a piece of my mind! I went to crab shacks, boob houses, and grease barns with them! One night...one night I ask them to show some class..."

Miguel had never felt as light on his feet. He stumbled, skinning his knees through his pants on the cold cobblestone ground. Ow...

"I've got to get you back to the castle." Van again, grabbing him under the shoulders and pulling him to his feet.

He's so nice. Miguel leaned on him a bit. "You are so helpful. I bet if I.... I..." Miguel looked around. A large gathering of people were crowded around some loud event, and taking the spot light from him.

Typical, Miguel could never be the center of attention. He ran to the stone rail of the bridge and hoisted himself on it.

"Miguel, what are you... no!" Miguel stuck his tongue out at Van.

"Ok, Van! I got it! I bet if I fell off this bridge into the water down there, you'd jump in and save me, because... you..." Miguel pointed at Van as he ran toward him. "...are a decent person! And... you're not a pervert! And... I think I like you more than my friends right now, because you are paying attention to me! I'm important, huh?"

Miguel spread his arms out to his sides and began to walk the rail. One foot in front of the other... damn growth spurts.

"Miguel, what the hell are you doing?"

Guimel? Miguel stopped abruptly, bobbling a bit.

"Miguel, come down from there." Van. "He's drunk."

Guimel chuckled and Miguel glared down at the fluffy headed blond. "You never could hold your liquor, Miguel. Don't you ever learn?"

Miguel sneered. They were always laughing at him! Even Dallet wore a smirk! The only person who looked concerned was Van. Van the King of friends! Van the magnificent! Van... Ooh.

The sky and ground swapped places and he lost his footing.

"Miguel!" Strong hands latched onto his wrist and tugged him forward, hard. He toppled into Van's chest, and both boys fell to the ground, Miguel on top of Van laughing wildly.

"Oh man, this is bad," he heard Dallet whispering.

"Miguel," Guimel was calling and Miguel felt hands on his arms, trying to pull him off his friend. No, no, no...

"I'm not going anywhere with you... you jerk! You stood me up!" Miguel slapped Guimel's hands away.

"I'm sorry. We thought we could catch a show and meet you for dessert, Miguel. Come on, I'll treat."

"Uh-uh!" Van was trying to sit up and Miguel wrapped his arms around the boy's neck tightly. "This is my new friend Van! He'll treat me."

"Miguel..." Dallet was pleading.

"No, no, no," Miguel shook his head ignoring the choking noises coming frm Van beneath him. "You don't love me. You don't love me at all, but he does! You hear me, Van loves me! And I...." Miguel released Van, and the dark haired boy gasped and choked under him, trying to roll away, but Miguel kept him pinned.

He tossed a look over his shoulder at a frowning Dallet and a scowling Guimel. Liars... he gazed at the greasy bag in Dallet's hands. They'd gone somewhere else to eat instead of eating with him.

"I..." Miguel gazed back down at Van who stared up at him in perfect horror. "LOVE him too!" He planted a large, wet kiss on the boy-king's lips. "So..So there!"

"Oh my gods..."

Shesta? When had bowl head gotten here?

"Miguel, you just..." Gatty too?

He tried to sit up, but everything... everything was spinning so fast. Colors swam together, but Miguel was sure that it was Shesta stretching a hand out toward him. Don't touch me! He wanted to shout, but suddenly... his stomach lurched.

He didn't feel well.

* * *

The Erlking, Alujin, was giving his farewell monologue when the commotion broke out. Seemed some idiot kid was trying to take a header off the bridge. Shesta was glad, half the crowd leaving meant he and Gatty got better seats. Viole had an impressive stage presence that Shesta had known nothing about, but he probably should have. Viole was a clown and lived to entertain.

"The King of Fanelia is trying to talk the crazy boy down!"

Shesta dropped his baked apple on the parcel he'd purchased for Lord Dilandau and turned to gape at Gatty. Gatty's "Oh shit" expression was enough to launch Shesta to his feet.

The entire audience was rising, and Shesta and Gatty had to knock over a few people to get through. On the bridge on the railing stood a boy that bore a striking resemblance to...

"Miguel! What is that fool doing?" Gatty shouted. They finally broke through the crowd onto the scene. Guimel and Dallet stood by as Van yanked Miguel down from his precarious perch into his arms and both boys sprawled onto the ground. Guimel and Dallet slid down beside the toppled teens and tried to offer assistance, but Miguel shoved them away, accusing them of being rotten friends and then... acknowledging Vans feelings for him and proclaiming his love to the king.

Then he kissed him!

Miguel kissed Van on the lips!

"Oh my gods..." Shesta uttered. It was true. There had been doubt in his mind about Miguel's attraction to Fanelia, but he'd told the world, or rather most of Astoria, where his affections laid.

Shesta inched forward, joining Guimel and Dallet in their protective cluster around Van and Miguel. Gatty came forward too, hissing at Guimel and Dallet to disperse of the crowd.

Dallet nodded hastily, staring strangely at Miguel and standing. Guimel frowned and remained where he was.

"Miguel you..." Gatty had begun to say, but he was interrupted when Miguel threw up all over himself... and Van.

"...are drunk," Shesta finished for Gatty, wrinkling his nose and trying not to look at the mess Miguel had made.

"Ooh... this was new," Miguel was moaning, staring down at himself in disgust then at Van. "You look gross!"

"No thanks to you!" Van shouted, shoving Miguel off. He hastily stood, not knowing where to begin to try cleaning himself off.

Oh no... Shesta was shaking his head. Miguel had expressed his feelings for Van while he was drunk, and now Van couldn't possibly accept them for fear of taking advantage of the situation!

Oh Miguel, you're ruined your chance tonight. Shesta stood, surging forward to take Miguel under the arms and boost him to his feet. "You're a mess, Miguel. Lets get back to the castle, so we can clean you up."

"So sorry about this, Lord Van," Shesta could hear Gatty speaking behind them as he began to steer Miguel away.

"Shesssss?"

Shesta held Miguel at arm's length in an attempt to keep his clothes uncontaminated by the contents of Miguel's stomach and to keep the horrible smell at bay. "What, Miguel?"

Guimel had fallen into step beside them.

"Are you my friend?"

Shesta glared at Guimel to silence his snickers. "Of course I am, Miguel."

"Good. I need to borrow some money."

"For what?"

"To buy Van new clothes..." Miguel said as if it was the most obvious thing in the wold and Shesta was an idiot for having to ask. "He's my new best friend. He ate dinner with me, and...hic... he saved me!"

Guimel did nothing to disguise his chuckles then. "I can't wait til he sobers up... It's gonna be classic."

Classic indeed.

Poor Miguel. He'd made a fool out of himself in front of his crush, thrown up on him, and was now being carted home like a toddler with half the city trying to steal a glimpse of the "jumper."

Shesta patted Miguel on the back. "Sure, Miguel. I'll lend you some money."

Anything to make this right. I'll help you win, Van.

"Thanks Shessss...you're a pal."

"Hey, is anyone going to fetch the Erlking from the stage before those Players kidnap him?"

Damn. Shesta had forgotten all about Viole. Viole! A plan began to form in Shesta's mind. If there was anyone who had access to Miguel's personal business, it was Viole.

"Why don't you get him, Guimel," Shesta said, his tone of voice making it clear that he wasn't giving a suggestion.

Shesta watched Guimel's retreating back out of the corner of his eye. He'd press Viole for information as soon as they got back to the palace, and of course he'd have to let Gatty in on it.

"I wanna take a bath with lotsa bubbles..." Miguel was mumbling and Shesta squeezed his shoulders.

"Don't worry, Miguel. We'll take care of you."

* * *

Author's Note: So what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Let me know :). The next part will be up very, very soon, so if you want me to respond to your review in the Response section hurry up and get it in ;). If not, leave me an e-mail address, and I'll e-mail you :).

Take care! Hope you liked it!

* * *


	23. Chapter 22

Author's Note: Hey people! Yes, yes, I know I said this update would come out much sooner, but real life doesn't always agree with the writing schedule I'd like to keep, lol. A lady decided it would be fun to back into the driver's side door of my car at Walmart, so I've been haggling with insurance companies and getting cars repaired and driving rental vehicles (bah). Anyways, I've decided to go ahead and make this Chapter 22; it has earned the title for it is another monster chapter in its own right. Twenty-eight pages (that I wrote mostly at work, lol!) Don't try to read it in one sitting! Thanks for all of the great feedback!

Reviewer Responses:

Haruko: Hello, lol! I'm glad the story still feels fresh to you. My biggest fear is that people will grow bored of this story and stop reading it. Lol, I enjoyed giving the Dragonslayers life and personality. I really wished they could have had a bigger part in the anime. Lol, Dilandau says thanks for the offer and how fast can you get it to Astoria? Lol! Boys being boys is fun, and you'll see Valeska again ;). Thanks for reviewing!

Lady Snow Blood: Lol, well Miguel's reaction is probably going to be a bit different than what everyone expected. I hope it goes over well. I really couldn't play with it as much as I wanted to, because other things needed to happen in this chapter :(. Thanks for reviewing girl!

Kou-Kagerou: Lol! I'm honored to receive the rating of over all coolage from you :). I'm glad this chapter went over better than the last and I humbly offer you this chapter as well for you to tear apart lol! Long reviews don't bother me, you should know ;). I like to read them. Dilandau's IV port is in the center of his right hand just below the knuckle of his middle finger. He wears long gauntlet sleeves, you know the kind on peasant tops that extend to mid-knuckle, that cover the site when he leaves his hands at his sides, but when performing sequences of motion it can be visible. But it's just a flash of something white and then it's gone. Dilandau's not really allowed to participate in the actual lessons, so he doesn't move much for his students usually. But Van has noticed the port on occasion ;). Lol, no I hadn't noticed I was putting Dilandau in Van's colors. You know, I thought Van's pants were a dark brown, but I watched an episode the other day and saw that they were cream colored lol! I guess I like Van's color schemes lol. Go Van! Dilandau's scar has faded into a hairline that's barely visible unless on is just point blank staring at that side of his face. I figure it was so big in the series because Dilandau kept messing with it lol; here he had Folken and Marie to treat it and he didn't poke it, because Marie would have put embarrassing mittens on his hands. "Cheek..cheek..." lol! The sprinkler incident... He's still thinking. He needs something good, because Folken is... gah! What would really and truly bother him enough to make him shout? Hehehe, the shower scene was fun to write. I was like hmm...what's a good way to freak Van out? The mixed signals came out of the blue, lol. I was just writing and all of a sudden... you know what I would think if I kept seeing Miguel staring at Van like that? You've hit Miguel's disposition right on :). Whew! Okee, I think I covered everything lol! Until next time, chica! Thanks for the great review! Have a safe trip home :). Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and everything in between!

Glass Angel1: Lol! Hope you didn't hurt yourself falling out of that chair :). Yes, Miguel is gonna regret it ;). Thanks for review, and take care!

S.P. Vinter: I know what you mean about starting stories and trying not to get your hopes up too high. A lot of stories start off really, really good and then when you actually get into the story, you think : ugh. I'm glad my story wasn't one of those for you :). Lol! You were trying to figure out what to say to me? Lol, I've never had anyone be that thoughtful before. People usually just tell me the first thing that comes to mind. "Dang, you got a big butt!" Lol! Sorry, had to put that in :). I'm glad you did say something, I enjoyed reading your review. I always like to hear people say that the story is still Escaflowne but its mine too. I'm trying to stay true to the anime, but give it more and leave myself room to take it another direction. Character evolution is the best thing about writing a story, and I'm glad you think I do a good job of it :). Glad you liked the Folken line too; I was like: Oh for Corniness sake! But I couldn't not have him say it, lol! The Slayers night out was why it took me so long to get the update out. I wasn't going to write all that, but they decided that I should. It's always good to know when people find me amusing too :). I always think no one will laugh. Well, I hope you like this next chapter. It's not as funny and longer... and well, you'll see. Take care and thank you for reviewing!

Nikku: Silly chic, you know I'm alive. You e-mail me and get responses enough to know my work schedule lol! Lol, Van did think ahead of what to wear for the fight, but unfortunately what he thought was a "hot" outfit to grab Dilandau's attention would be his downfall. Hehehe! Dilandau's injection site is in the center of his right hand just below the knuckle of his middle finger. Dilandau is ambidextrous and he holds his sword in his left hand to keep pressure of the right, but it isn't enough of a nuisance to where if he really needed to, he couldn't pass the sword to his right hand. Yes, Viole and Miguel are mean to Van and it's fun! :). Van is a little shrimp, which is why he couldn't offer Dilandau any pants, but shirts and things ran a bit long in those days, and Dilandau's skinny, so he didn't have a problem with the top. :) Dilandau is still trying to help Folken and Van's relationship :). Lol! Well, I don't know. If I always caught Miguel and Van looking at each other, and trading remarks, I might think the same thing ;). Lol! Folken attacking Allen with a pen would be funny. I should write that in! Can you see Allen's face? What the...? Lol! Folken and Marie, I already told ya about that one ;). True, when people like Dilandau bat their eyes, you usually asked, "What have you done now?" The Slayers are bad about gossip aren't they? But don't you know, men gossip as bad if not wore than women? They're awful! Lol! They're just better at not being scientifically documented doing it ;). Lol, Van/Miguel probably isn't gonna go over like you would have expected. I had to many things to do in the chapter to really delve into it lol. You'll see... Well, I hope you enjoy this. Sorry it's much later than what I said! Take care, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and thanks for reviewing!

Koneri: Lol! Glad you liked the plot twist. It came out of nowhere, literally, but I'm glad it went over well. I hope you like the new chapter! Take care and thanks for reviewing!

NB: Lol! Don't you love talking to stories, books, or television? I mean, the people never listen to you, but hey... at least you can say you tried, lol. Aww... but picking on Miguel is so much fun, because he's so easy to get a rise out of. Even Viole says so. He can go tease Guimel and Guimel will just stare at him, but Miguel gets huffy :). Hehehe, I'm going to be looking more into Van and Allen torture for future chapters though ;). Thanks for reviewing! Take care!

Jhaylin: Lol! I'm glad you liked it. Miguel's reaction when he sobers up is probably going to be a bit different than what you might expect. I hope you like it :). Thanks for reviewing! Take care!

Aurebec: Hey chic. Lol, yes you are reviewing :). E-mails are fine too though ;). Dilandau the Matchmaker, lol! He'd love that title. Maybe he will work on Folken and Marie. You'll see ;). Van is good comic relief. He's just so awkward lol! Shesta and Gatty's reactions were fun. I made them act like me actually. I wouldn't have been able to get off the floor laughing so hard about it, and I couldn't have looked either one of them in the eyes, lol. Guimel and Dallet scenes are fun to write, but I can never really find anything for those two to do. I want to give them more scenes, but I always have to flex my brain to figure out what can be going on in them, lol. Yes, Allen is in this chapter :) and he gets wound up, a lot! Lol! He's fun to mess with too. So, here's the next chapter, not next part...it's ended up being too long to be a part lol! Take care, Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and thanks for reviewing!

SkippysCat: Hello Ms. Chica. I went to visit your site, and I'll have to e-mail you with my comments :). We have a lot in common when it comes to anime, actually lol. Wow, 170 thousand words? Dang. This isn't a story; it's an encyclopedia! No, Van wouldn't have won that first fight, if it hadn't of been for Hitomi. Dilandau would have cut him down from behind. Van the peacock lol! That's funny, because I read a series by Mercedes Lackey and her character, Vanyel, who they call Van, is a peacock too, lol. :) The Slayers group relationship is fun, and Viole's such a hug-gy type person, I figured I could get away with the little hug he gives Dilandau in public lol. Nobody really cares what they do anymore... except maybe Allen ;). Dilandau using Van's bath was fun. I loved writing Van's freak out scene lol. Van is very observant and he does know something is wrong ;). You'll see what it drives him to do ;). Hehehe for Van's luck ;). But yes, the Slayers pretty much accept him...well most of them anyway lol. Hehehe, I think Dilandau was counting on Shesta to tell Gatty, lol, and writing those two was fun, because I could put myself into the scene and laugh with them. No, it wasn't nice of them to leave Miguel and Van alone, and the evening was kind of important to Miguel :(. Hehehe, the aftermath of the evening out is a bit delayed in this chapter due to circumstances beyond the character's control. The author, lol! I never mind long reviews, I crave them like you love long chapters lol! Merry Christmas girl, happy New Year, and thank you for reviewing! Take care!

Spoon no Miko: Lol, thanks! Dilandau was sorry that he missed it, lol, but I'm sure the others will tell him all about it ;). I hope this update is soon enough for ya! Thanks for the review! Take care!

Pocketfirefairy: Lol, yes I'm alive. Aww... tough love for Miguel lol! I hope you'll never have to deal with anything like that either lol! Glad you like it though. Thanks for reviewing girl! Take care!

Strangedream: Lol, drunken Miguel says he doesn't love you, because you're laughing at him. Glad you liked the Folken line and it wasn't too cheesy for ya! Thanks for reviewing and take care girl!

Omnipotent Pyro: Hehehehe, strangely comical? I like that! Lol! Van and Miguel as a couple came out of thin air lol. I was just writing and there it was lol. Yes, Miguel did make a fool of himself, and no he wasn't in his right mind...but do you think his friends will care about that fact? :) Lol! Hehehehehehe, poor Van... he's turning into quite the drama queen...er king, isn't he? Lol, I hope you enjoy the chapter! Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Mars Fire Goddess: Lol! I love being unpredictable! It's a very hard thing to do lol! Miguel's attitude about gay couples kinda seemed fitting for him in way, since he's so proper. And I needed someone to throw up that wall. The reactions may be a little delayed, I had a lot of things to do in this chapter and certain events that happen will postpone any really funny happenings lol. Sorry. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thanks fro reviewing chic! Have a happy holiday!

Squizles: Lol thanks, and thanks for reviewing! Take care!

* * *

Chapter 22

Allen looked grimly around the long table in the King's conference room as he relayed the desperate message he had received from the Astorian troops guarding the Western border.

"We're going to have to dispatch our troops to help them. We can't let Zaibach penetrate the country any further," General Alloju said, looking quite shaken by the horrible statistics Allen had rattled off. The strands of gray in his red hair had become more prominent since the start of the war. "How are those recruits you're training, Mr. Gatty."

Allen rolled his eyes over to Dilandau's first in command who sat in his absent leader's place beside Folken. Dilandau's frequent absences annoyed Allen. Just what was the boy doing that was so important he couldn't attend business meetings? Allen hated to admit it, but Dilandau was brilliant and his input was greatly needed.

"They're coming along quite nicely sir, but they'll need a few more weeks before we can declare them battle ready," Gatty said

"We may not have a few weeks to wait for them," Captain Sparks sighed. "Zaibach is making it's move now. Fighting is breaking out all over, and the allies are calling in. They want to join forces."

"I've talked to them," Dryden said flatly. "Those idiots are still arguing amongst themselves in their home countries, and I refuse to work with anyone who hasn't resolved their own issues first."

Allen snorted quietly. "Well I guess that means we won't be receiving any aid from our allies."

Dryden smirked at him, pushing his glasses down onto his nose. "Then it's good I have a wonderful person like you on staff, Allen."

Allen fought back a growl. He hated when Dryden addressed him without his title in formal settings, and Dryden knew he hated it!

"Actually," Dryden continued, rising from his high-backed chair and walking around the table to stand in front of the blank drawing board. "I don't think we'll need to send an entire battalion of troops to squelch this rising. From what I read in the report, it sounds like something a small team of specialist could handle."

Allen stared. A small team of specialist? He caught Dryden's eyes and realized they were resting on Folken and the young blond on his left.

"How about it, Mr. Gatty? You think your team could take care of the problem for us. I'd love to see you in action. Lord Folken has told me wonderful things about you." Dryden's ever present grin didn't falter and Allen concentrated on Gatty, studying the boy's expression.

Gatty looked neither surprised nor overwhelmed. Taking a moment to organize his thoughts, the boy said, "From what Sir Allen has presented to us, the task doesn't sound like anything my unit couldn't deal with. I cannot officially make the decision to mobilize without consulting with my superior first, but I'm sure he'll say the same thing."

"Lord Dryden, I really must object to this! To send seven boys in against a small army would be folly! Zaibach will laugh us off the face of Gaea..."

"Zaibach certainly wasn't laughing when 7 boys blew up 9 of their bases and major weapons keeps. And I'm willing to bet they didn't laugh when 7 boys obliterated their new special task force deployed just to take the 7 out, because they were causing too much of a disturbance," Gatty said brusquely. "They're scared of us."

"I agree with the idea of sending out a small, elite team," Folken said, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

Allen threw his hands up into the air, exasperated. Why did he even bother to attend these things anymore? No one listened to him, since the King got ill and Dryden started hosting the circus.

"But I don't think the team should solely consist of the Slayers..."

Allen narrowed his eyes in Folken's direction.

"I think Sir Allen and some of his men should accompany them and perhaps the Escaflowne. That is, if Sir Allen and the King of Fanelia are willing to participate in such a mission." Folken's tired eyes met Allen's and roved over to Van.

Van was frowning; he'd been frowning since Folken had entered with Dilandau's right hand. "I'm willing to do anything to help, especially with the Slayer unit. I work with you everyday, Gatty, and I really want to consider myself part of your team. If you'll have me."

Gatty's blue eyes widened a bit and strange smile curved his lips. "Of course we'll have you, Lord Van. You're an honorary Slayer now."

Van smiled, and Allen's brow wrinkled. He didn't like that Van was getting so friendly with the ex-Zaibach soldiers. The King spent most of his free time with the Slayers and had even gone out with them the previous night to the market place where they'd caused the pandemonium that none of his men could shut up about.

"Sir Allen?" Folken asked, getting Allen's attention. "How about you? Would you go and assist King Fanel and my charges?"

King Fanel. Allen didn't like Folken, but it still saddened him that he felt the need to address his brother with such formalities, and Van didn't try to correct him.

Sighing, Allen said, "If Lord Dilandau decides to go and occupy the Western borders, my men and I will go as well. War is not a game for boys, especially ones that can't find the time to be present for business. Just where is Lord Dilandau this fine morning? I've heard stories of your outing last night, Mr. Gatty; did he stay out a little too late?"

Gatty flushed with anger, but it was Folken that spoke up, his face as expressionless as ever, "Lord Dilandau was with me yesterday evening, Sir Allen, and this morning he is attending to other business that requires his immediate attention. Lord Dryden has excused his absence, and Mr. Gatty is fully competent to be here in Lord Dilandau's stead."

Allen disguised a scowl with a polite smile. "Well, if Lord Dryden... has excused the boy, I see no need to pursue his whereabouts. I would have his answer in an hour."

"And I will gladly get it for you," Folken bowed his head in acquiescence.

Dryden chuckled, taking the attention away from Allen and Folken and bringing it back to himself. "You know what I like about you, Allen? You take every little insignificant detail about any event and make it important. Nothing ever gets by you."

There was an undertone and a slight wink added to the end of the statement that made Allen take it as an insult. There were soft snickers and a few smirks passed around the table as Dryden stood with his arms folded over his chest, looking thoroughly satisfied with himself.

Twit.

"Well, if all it seems we need is word from Lord Dilandau, I move to adjourn this meeting and I'll send out personal messengers to you when I receive his reply." Dryden tapped the long table lightly with his tanned fingers and gave a tiny wave in parting.

The captains and general rose, bowing to Dryden and exiting the room quietly. Only Van, Folken, Gatty, Dryden and Allen remained. Van was standing beside Allen, but at a nod from Gatty, walked around the table to stand by the other boy.

"Some of us are having a meeting," Gatty was saying cryptically. "I think you should come."

Van's expression flashed from startled, to elated, to calm acceptance. "I'll be more than happy to make an appearance."

"Van..." Allen began, a note of caution in his voice.

"I'll be fine Allen. Go have breakfast with Hitomi; she's been peculiar lately. I'll see you later."

Van left with Gatty and Folken looked after them, tired eyes now exhausted.

"Lord Folken, I'd like to have a word with you," Dryden said, smiling invitingly and striding to Folken. "Good day, Allen." Dryden delivered another smirk and lead Folken through the private back door that would take them to the King's private rooms.

Allen stood alone, confused, angry, and insulted.

Straightening his back and shoulders, he marched out of the empty room with his head high. Allen Schezar was not going to let Dryden, Folken, or any rotten kids upset his morning. He would go and have a nice breakfast with his men and maybe have a nice day with Hitomi. Allen really had been ignoring the girl, but with all that was going on with getting supplies ready for upcoming battle, helping with restorations, and keeping his eye on the Dragonslayers, the girl just got lost in the shuffle.

He could hear the loud laughter coming from the minor dining hall as he approached it and he had serious doubts about going in. Perhaps, he should just order room service. The large dining hall for the nobles and officials did not serve breakfast, and with the mood he was in, Allen didn't know if he could deal with the rambunctious behavior of his men and whoever else was in there with them.

Allen paused just outside the door, debating. Go in and eat now, or go back to your room and have to wait for the cooks to make something for you...

His stomach gave a rumble, ending the argument and propelling him inside the room to be met with the sight of his men, Kio, Reeden and Gaddes, and some men from different units gathered around one table with all of their attention directed at one of Dilandau's men...

It was the jester; what was his name? Allen shook his head; he'd heard the boy being shouted at often enough that he should know his name.

"The look on that girl's face when you threw her back and kissed her like that! I bet she taught you some tricks last night!" Reeden crowed. "You don't got a curfew or something, kid?"

The jester chuckled, running a hand through his shoulder length, chaotic curls and shaking his head. "Eh, Lord Dilandau didn't impose one, but that's probably because he didn't think about it. Geez, I hope no one's been looking for me. You guys haven't heard anything, have ya?"

"Nah," Kio straddled his chair backward, leaning his head on the table and staring up at Jester who sat cross-legged on top of the table. "Some of your guys came in here earlier; snagged a few treats and left. They didn't mention anything about you."

Jester made a face. "Aw man... that could mean anything from: they haven't noticed I'm gone to Viole 'the example.' I knew I should have checked in with someone first, but I wanted food. Damn my gluttony! But, come on, we fell asleep...and it's not like I missed practice or anything."

Gaddes laughed. "Don't explain that to us, Viole, but for what it's worth, your captain seemed to be in a pretty good mood."

"Really?" Jester or Viole's expression went from slightly worried to the usual expression Allen was used to seeing on his face, excited. "How did he look? Good, bad, ok...?"

"Like I was looking at him while that maid was in here..." one man rumbled with a deep, belly laugh; a few other men joined in on his mirth, adding their comments of appreciation for the maid.

"He looked better than he has," Gaddes said thoughtfully. "Is something wrong with him?"

Viole's dark, blue eyes widened a bit in surprise. "No, not at all. He's just been...busy and hasn't been getting enough sleep. So, he looked well rested, yeah?"

"Yeah," Gaddes said with a soft smile, giving Viole the "there's more to this story" look Allen knew so well for he was often on the receiving end of it.

"Boss!" Allen had been lounging in the doorway listening to the conversation and observing the demeanor of the people in the room. They were so comfortable and relaxed around one another. When had Dilandau's men been so accepted and made to feel so cozy within the ranks of Astorian soldiers that would have sooner had their heads roasted on sticks rather than teaming up with them weeks ago? Probably around the same time Van and Dilandau became friends, and Folken and Dryden started having tea...

Honestly was Allen the only one unaffected by his ex-enemies? Allen straightened up, entering the well lit room and greeting his men.

"How long have you been lurking there? That meeting must have been what–10 minutes long?" Reeden asked, kicking out an empty chair beside him for Allen to sit in. Allen nodded, acknowledging the chair, but going to the buffet table first to see what he could forage for breakfast.

The caterers always put out trays of various dishes like bacon, eggs, biscuits, and sausages, but what Allen was looking for was the single platter of fruit that usually graced the table. The other men claimed fruit was for women and often passed over it, so Allen had free reign to eat as much as he liked, but today there was a gap on the blue table cloth where the fruit plate should have been.

Allen whirled around. "What happened to the fruit plate?– and don't tell me one of you ate it."

The boisterous soldiers sobered at the sight of Allen scowling in annoyance. "Uh..."

"His boss took it," Kio pointed at Viole.

Viole's brows rose to his hairline when Allen directed his glare at him. "Hey, don't look at me. I just got here, and besides... was your name on it?"

Reeden smothered a laugh behind a hand and Kio shot Viole a look.

"No," Allen growled. "But to take an entire plate of food is rude. It shows no consideration of others..."

"Boss, they did ask first," Gaddes said calmly. "No one thought you'd be joining us this morning, and you are the only one that eats that stuff."

"Fruit's woman food!" someone grunted.

"See there, they asked." Viole stood on the table and hopped down and it was then that Allen noticed his boots. His eyes almost crossed. Pointy-toes? When did those come back into fashion? Allen had been very happy when they had gone out of style; they hurt like hell and Allen refused to wear them.

"I'm gonna go find my pack and let them know I'm alive," Viole was saying to the men; he brushed by Allen in passing. "Hey, if there's any fruit left, Sir Allen, I'll have it delivered!"

Cackling impishly, the boy left and Allen made no move to follow him, though he'd wanted to. Brat.

He muttered some choice words under his breath and turned his attention back to the limited breakfast buffet. Biscuits, bacon, and eggs were poor substitutes for the lush strawberries, diagonally sliced apples, grapes, and nut assortments that came on the fruit tray.

Damn Dilandau.

He hadn't even seen the boy that day and already he was aggravating him. After selecting a poached egg and two biscuits, Allen made his way to the seat Reeden had kicked out for him and took his place.

Conversation had resumed in the dining hall and the dull roar of men boasting and bragging about their latest conquests helped soothe Allen's nerves as it took his mind off Dilandau, Dryden, Dilandau's Slayers, Dryden, Van, Dryden...

Allen jumped when a strong hand touched him just above the elbow. He whipped his head around, his blond curtain of hair swishing and smacking Reeden in the face while his mouth was wide open for a bite of sausage biscuit.

Reeden sputtered as Allen gazed inquisitively at Gaddes who'd poked him. "What's got you in such a bad mood, Boss? Lord Dryden mocking you again?"

Among other things. Allen rolled his eyes. "I'm not in a bad mood."

"Your right eye's doing that twitch thing," Gaddes pointed out with a slight smirk. An empty plate smeared with grease sat in front of the dark haired man, and he pushed it aside, working on a mug of coffee. "Something major happening on the battle front?"

Allen sighed. Gaddes was not going to leave him alone. He was wearing that look. "Western borders are compromised and Dryden wants to send a small team out to strengthen the troops out there."

"A small team, huh? He wants us to go out?"

"No, he wants the Dragonslayers to go out, but we're invited to tag along; Van too! But that's not what _irritates_ me. I disagreed with Dryden's suggestion, but no one was on my side. It seemed like the entire room was mocking me, not just Dryden. Even Van... though Van's quite ready to turn over his Fanelian crown and become a Dragonslayer. I just don't know what's gotten into him. He hangs out with those boys after hours. He was involved in the fiasco that clown, Viole, was probably telling you all about."

Gaddes was chuckling much to Allen's disgust. Were his own men going to start poking fun at him too? Patting Allen on the back lightly, Gaddes shook his head. "I'm not laughing at you, Boss; relax. It's just... Boss, Van's a kid, and he's had nothing but old guys to hang out with for months. If I was him, I'd jump at the chance to hang out with some kids my age too."

"But these aren't children Van's messing around with; they're..."

"Veteran, ex-enemy soldiers, yeah, but they're still kids, Boss. They fought for the wrong side for a while; so what? They've joined us now, and they've done nothing to make us think that they're untrustworthy."

"Dilandau was a madman..."

"The keyword there, Boss, is: was. Even you admitted he wasn't the same person we met before," Gaddes said, taking another gulp of coffee. "I don't know who or what knocked the crazy out of that kid, but we owe them one. Folken was right in asking Dilandau to come here. We've gained some ground we by all means should have lost to Zaibach, because the kid's sharp as a tack."

True. If they won the war, Dilandau would be one of the major contributors to the victory along with Folken, Allen, Van, Dryden, Hitomi and a few others.

Allen lowered his eyes from Gaddes', focusing instead on his plate of cold eggs and biscuits. He poked at one of his eggs, watching the yellow yoke bleed from its fluffy white exterior. His stomach was silent; his hunger pains had abated.

What Gaddes was trying to say was slowly seeping into the pores of his brain. Could it be? Was Allen being... too hard on Dilandau and his followers? Had they really given him any reason within the confines of the castle to be hostile and untrusting toward them?

"Boss?"

Allen's eyes snapped up from his plate and connected with Gaddes' once again.

"Give the kid a break."

Sighing, Allen nodded. He pushed away his breakfast. "Maybe I have been acting a bit childish, holding Dilandau's past faults over his head when everyone agreed to forget them. Everyone else sure seems a lot happier than I am at the moment, because they were able to do that. So perhaps it's time that I did. I will not hate Dilandau anymore for his past insanity and I will not hate his followers anymore for their past actions."

"Very good, Boss..."

"I will hate Dilandau for liking fruit, and I will hate his men for obligating themselves to make sure that he has fruit... all of the fruit..." Glaring disdainfully at his cold breakfast food, he patted Gaddes on the shoulder. "Thank you Gaddes. I feel a lot better after our little talk, lighter."

Gaddes was staring at him incredulously, coffee spattered on the front of his shirt. "Boss..."

"I'm going to go ahead and order room service like every other self respecting noble does in the morning. If there's any fruit left over, I can get some, and if I can't, at least the food will be hot."

"B..."

"I'll see you this afternoon, Gaddes. We'll have battle plans to look over then."

Allen walked out of the room, leaving Gaddes to gap after him with a small smirk on his face. Dryden wasn't the only one who could get the best of people.

Chuckling, Allen glided down the hallways in search of a maid so that he could order something decent for breakfast.

* * *

Shower and a change of clothes, or should he just bust into Miguel's room and announce himself? Well... Viole chewed his lower lip thoughtfully as he tiptoed down the hallway past Lord Dilandau's room. He could hear voices coming from it and figured the captain was having a meeting. The last thing he wanted to do was interrupt and draw more attention to himself.

Viole sighed. Well, he probably better go ahead and check in with someone. It wasn't like any of his friends wouldn't have noticed the fact that he'd never come home last night, so there was no point in changing and trying to look fresh.

Viole stopped treading so timidly and sat down on the soft red rug, lining the hallway. First thing's first, he was getting these damn pointy-toed boots off. He couldn't believe he'd walked all the way back to the castle in them. Viole and Heather hadn't been able to find his real boots; someone had taken them. Thank the gods they'd left his clothes behind.

Viole's poor feet sang out in joy and relief as the fake leather boots were removed. Free at last! He wiggled his toes within the soft stockings he wore and bounced back onto his feet, boots in hand.

Was he still wearing the ears?

Who knew. He smiled faintly, remembering the troop of players and their songs and games, and most importantly the beautiful Helena... or Heather. Viole really hadn't meant to stay out all night, but Heather had stolen him away. She wanted to give him her own personal tour of the market place and other sites of Astoria under the moon. Yes, that had been exactly what Heather had said "under the moon."

She was a dreamy type of girl, what Guimel would call dizzy. Long black hair that hung well past her waist and misty green eyes that captivated Viole whenever they smiled at him was Helena. They'd eaten for free in a bakery (Viole would really have to go back and pay for what they'd taken), they'd run along the beach, and they'd fallen asleep in the sand. Viole had woken up with his face meshed in the soft raven nest of Heather's hair with her warm, supple body in his arms. It would have been heaven, if Viole hadn't noticed the sun rising! Oh shit! Viole had awoken the girl, kissed her in parting, and ran like hell for the castle gates.

He knocked before throwing open Miguel's door. Miguel was undoubtably pissed at him for leaving him with Van last night. Viole wondered how that had gone? Maybe Miguel would have an interesting story to tell too.

"Morning Miguel, before you start bitching at me, let me... Guimel? Dallet? What are you two...?"

"Viole! You dirty dog!" Guimel had been lying on Miguel's bed with his arms tucked behind his head, but he sprang from that position faster than Viole could blink to run at him. Gripping him by the shoulders, Guimel pulled him into the room, closing the door.

Someone, presumably Dallet, tugged at his arms from behind, tossing him toward the bed and then both Guimel and Dallet were on him like rabid jungle cats closing in on cute little bunny-rabbits. "Where have you been, friend?" Dallet asked, the quirk of his lips and the arch of his brow giving Viole the impression that Dallet already knew the answer to the question he'd asked.

"Um... out." Viole struggled to sit up on the bed, but was pushed back down by Guimel.

"With the delectable Helena, we know; what we don't... is how far you got. All night, man! You were gone all night!"

They him? Dallet and Guimel moved back to give Viole room to sit up, but then proceeded to pound him on the back.

"Tell us what happened!"

Viole was still confused. Of course they knew he'd been gone all night, but how had they known about Heather... Wait, they'd called her 'Helena,' meaning... "You guys saw my play!! What did you think? Did you like it? It was total improv! They gave me a costume and told me who I was and everything, but after that it was all up to us to come up with the story! Could you tell I was winging it?"

Guimel rolled his eyes and Dallet scoffed.

"Yeah, we saw your play. You were great.... now tell us, was she great?"

"How do you know I went anywhere with Heather?"

"Heather, hm?" Guimel rubbed his chin. "Pretty name. So...?"

"You didn't answer me," Viole pressed, running a hand through his hair and frowning as left-over leaves from his garland crown and sand from the beach came away in his fingers. He supposed he should have taken that shower first...

"Shesta sent me to get you after the play and when I found the Players, they said you had left already with Helena."

"Shesta?" Viole was grinning from ear to ear. "He saw the play too? How about Gatty? Did he see? What about Miguel? Say, where is Miguel? Why are you in his room?"

"Forget them," Dallet insisted, resting a hand on Viole's shoulder and peering into his eyes seriously. "Now, what happened with Helena? Did she give you a private showing of her Dance of the Water Nymphs?"

Viole shoved the other dark haired boy away, grunting in annoyance. Damn perverts... both Dallet and Guimel. Just because they liked to kiss and tell didn't mean Viole liked it too. Besides... he and Heather hadn't really done anything Dallet or Guimel would find interesting anyway.

They'd talked; they'd held hands... Nothing raunchy or invasive; they'd just had fun and enjoyed each others' company. Every once and a while, it was nice not to be viewed as the comic relief. Heather had told him he was the smartest guy she'd ever met, considering the crowd she ran with, she wasn't saying much, but it made Viole feel special, empowered. Someone looked up to him, adored him; thought he was cute... Viole beamed at the memory and once again felt himself being shaken.

"Well? Don't just smile about it; share!" Guimel demanded.

"Yeah, it's the absolute least you can do, after we babysat Miguel for you this morning," Dallet threw in, making Viole frown.

"Babysat Miguel?" He gazed around the room, seeing no sign of his partner, but noticing certain things amiss. There were pillows and blankets on the floor as if Miguel had had a slumber party, and a basin sat on the night stand along with a tall glass of... Viole crawled over the bed, taking the glass of clear liquid and swirling it around a bit... flat seltzer. "What the hell happened last night? And where is Miguel?"

Guimel sighed dramatically, finally realizing that he was getting nothing more out of Viole about his evening. "Trying to drown himself in the bathtub now that he remembers what a jackass he made out himself last night."

Dallet chuckled lightly, shaking his head. "You asked if we saw your play? We saw most of it, but had to skip the conclusion to stop our boy, Miguel, from jumping off a bridge."

Viole gapped. "A bridge?" What a drama queen! So Viole had dumped him one evening to do something more entertaining... "Why...?"

"He was drunk! Old Van said the dummy had downed like 3 bottles of wine. Remember when most of the audience exited before your finale?"

"Yeah," Viole scratched his head, ignoring the filth he was getting in his nails. "Ray said a crazy boy proclaimed his undying devotion to some guy who wasn't hearing it, so he was gonna– Oh shit! That was Miguel?!"

Guimel and Dallet nodded, chortling at Viole's statement.

"Oh man, I wish I was out on the street to hear the rumors!"

Viole slid off the bed and turned to face his giggling comrades. "So, what really happened? Miguel got drunk and got up on a ledge...?"

"Well, me and Dallet were all set to join Miguel and the rest of your guys for the last part of dinner, and we waltz up on Miguel up on the rail of the main bridge. Van pulled him down, they fell on top of each other, and Miguel planted a big wet one on Van, declaring his love. By then, there was a big crowd watching, and Gatty and Shesta appeared out of nowhere. Then Miguel puked all over Van and himself, and we dragged his sorry ass back here."

I missed all that? Damn. Viole shook his head. How had Miguel managed to let himself get so drunk while he was alone with Van Fanel?

Viole sighed deeply as guilt set in. If he hadn't have left him, it wouldn't have happened. Now Miguel was going to have to endure endless teasing from other people besides Viole. Poor guy...

All he had wanted was one lousy dinner without hearing people belch and bellow 'Play it again Sam!'

"So... he's in the bathroom?" Viole asked, subdued.

Guimel yawned and Dallet nodded.

"Ok. I'm sorry for not being here guys. I can take over, if you'll give me a chance to grab a shower and change."

"Sure," Guimel purred lazily; he stretched out across Miguel's bed again.

Viole walked to the door, but stopped, shoulders hunching a bit. He turned, resting his back against the door. "How's Lord Dilandau?"

Dallet blinked, giving a genuine smile free of innuendo. "He's good, really good. Folken's a little wary and banning him from doing a lot stuff today, but he looks better than he has in a long time. It worked, Viole."

"And... just in case you're worried," Guimel droned, "he hasn't said a word about your little absence, but I would still let him know that you're back. We can keep an eye on Miguel a little longer while you do that."

Viole smiled. "Thanks guys!" He left the room feeling elated. A wonderful evening out and wonderful news...

Ah, but wait. This was his life. Nothing could ever be that good for long. He groaned, wondering what event was about to transpire to balance his good fortune with bad.

Bah, I hate being me sometimes.

* * *

Gatty led him down the hallway Van had always tried to avoid, because he knew Folken dwelled there. Well so, it seemed, did the Dragonslayers. Of course they would live near Folken!

"Allen Schezar really wanted a sword up his ass," Gatty was muttering. "If Folken hadn't been sitting right next to me..."

Van wasn't really listening to the other boy, but he nodded along if Gatty turned to look at him for his agreement. Allen was trying at times, but he was still a good friend of Van's and he wasn't about to bad mouth the knight. In fact, Van was seriously contemplating on going to Allen with his "dilemma." It was bad when it was just Dilandau, but now there was the issue with Miguel.

It was easier when he could just write Miguel off as someone he didn't care for, as an obstacle...but now he was something more. Miguel was someone Van understood. Like Van would filter Merle's potential suitors when she reached the appropriate age, Miguel was doing the same. Van couldn't fault him for that, but the dirty pranks would have to stop, and maybe they would after last night.

Gah, last night had been a nightmare. Never again would he go out with the Dragonslayers alone. Van would always make sure he was busy after dark if they should ever try to include him again.

Van was pretty sure Dilandau had told Shesta and Gatty his speculation about Van and Miguel for the two blonds had been acting rather suspicious and very silly in his presence. There was no telling what they thought now, after Miguel, drunk as hell, had proclaimed his love to him and...and...kissed him!

Van had wiped his lips on his hands, his shirt, then rinsed them with soap when he'd gotten back in. He could still feel the wetness of Miguel's lips against his and his tongue trying to push itself into his mouth! The kid hadn't been playing around!

They stopped at a door and Gatty knocked twice before entering. Van walked in a few paces behind him, wondering who's room he'd been taken to and praying that it wasn't Miguel's.

Dilandau and Shesta sat at a small round table, munching on plates of fruit and gazing at him pleasantly.

"Have a seat, Lord Van," Shesta said. "Have some breakfast. How did the meeting go, Gatty? What's going on now?"

Gatty was already pulling up a cushioned, wooden chair at the table beside Shesta, leaving Van no choice but to sit in the empty chair next to Dilandau. Oh gods... he'd forgotten to dab on the cologne he'd borrowed from Allen, and gods!– He didn't have enough time nor discrete distance to check his breath!

"The Heavenly Knight himself picked up a distress call from Astoria's Western borders. Zaibach's sent one of their toy armies to wipe out the walls there, and Lord Dryden wants us to clean up the mess."

Dilandau was biting into a slice of apple, but paused, letting his lips close around the fruit while still holding it between two fingers. He sucked it thoughtfully and Van tried not to watch. There was something about Dilandau today, a new glow to his skin, a faint flush across his cheek bones... Whatever it was, he was.... Van shook his head, distracting himself by grabbing a plate and piling some fruit and buttered bread onto it.

"Really? He's sending us out?" Shesta questioned.

"Well, along with Lord Van, Allen Schezar and his crew. They're really just waiting for your 'ok', Lord Dilandau," Gatty said, smiling at his leader.

Dilandau finally stopped torturing the fruit and Van and finished biting into the wedge. Chewing and swallowing, Dilandau nodded. "Does the Heavenly Knight have any statistics for me to look at?"

Gatty snorted. "Probably, but you know he never mentions things like that once he starts yakking. He got on his soap box today."

"Hm, I'm no longer regretting Folken and Marie's decision for me not to go to the meeting. I would have had to pour water on Allen's box and watch it disintegrate beneath his feet. Then I'd have to listen to one of Folken's boring ass speeches about holding my tongue and controlling my temper," Dilandau said, studying a large strawberry as he held it by its stem. 'One of these days Old Allen is gonna get a sword up his ass. Who knows, it might loosen up the stick in there."

Van held in a chuckle as Shesta and Gatty laughed. Arguments between Dilandau and Allen were always fun, yet it scared him how eerily similar they could appear when in the midst of pissing each other off.

"When did Dryden want his answer by?"

"As soon as possible, so it can wait until we're done," Gatty said, an odd look passing between he, Dilandau and Shesta that made Van frown. Suddenly all eyes were on him and all smiles looked a bit... devious.

"What?" Oh please, please, please, don't let this be about what I think it is.

"So... we were wrong leaving you all alone with Miguel last night. Clearly neither of you was quite ready for that, but we have to know. What happened between you two?" Gatty leaned in.

"Miguel doesn't make a habit of getting drunk, so you guys must have been having a good time. You know alcohol lowers inhibitions?" Shesta placed his elbows on the table.

Van choked on the bit of pear he was trying to swallow and Dilandau thumped him on the back a few times. "Shesta, Gatty, back off. Let the man breathe. Maybe he doesn't want to talk about his first outing. Perhaps its... something he'd like to keep between himself and Miguel. I mean, there was a kiss involved..."

Gods almighty! Of course they'd tell Dilandau everything!

"Miguel's so embarrassed. I don't think I've ever quite seen him like that before." Shesta was shaking his head. "He sobered up an hour before dawn and has been moaning about what an idiot he was ever since."

"And did you try to correct him on that, Shesta?" Dilandau asked, batting his lashes and placing his chin in one hand.

"Why no, I did not. He _was _an idiot," Shesta retorted. "If I told him any differently, then I'd be lying, and Miguel's not making a liar out of me."

Gatty snickered. "All that aside, we just want to let you know that Miguel's really sorry, and so are we. Next time, we won't leave you guys alone unless you request it. So uh... did you want to start planning for next time?"

Van wanted to scream. No! But... actually... Maybe this was the way to go. Gatty and Shesta looked ready to bend over backward to help him, and Dilandau... gods, Dilandau was having breakfast with him, dimpling at him... In the future, he might even try to counsel Van in private. He would be buying more time with Dilandau, if he feigned interest in Miguel, and his men... Gatty and Shesta, so far, were nothing but supportive.

If Van was to say he didn't like Miguel, that there had been a misunderstanding, eventually they would all have to come to realize who really had Van's affection.... and what if they all felt the same way Miguel did? Dilandau's men were very protective of him, and Van didn't want the entire team coming down on him like Miguel and Viole had been doing.

And... what if Dilandau wasn't ready? He needed to be eased into the idea of being with Van. Miguel had said it himself; Dilandau was innocent when it came to relationships. Maybe Van wasn't doing anything wrong at all; Dilandau just didn't understand what was going on.

But how to get him to understand...? How to make him see...?

He needed serious help from a professional.

"Van? Are you ok?"

"Yeah... yeah, fine. Uh... I don't know about next time. How about we plan that one after our mission? Maybe you guys could help me come up with some ideas." Van gave a weak smile, hoping he looked excited and not constipated.

"Oh yeah..." Gatty breathed.

"Oh yeah," Dilandau nodded. His garnet eyes scanned his guests and their statuses on finishing breakfast. "Gatty, go give Dryden the word. Shesta, go ask Dr. Marie if I'm clear for a trip to Schezar's room for some floor plans."

"Sir!" Both blonds rose from the table immediately, saluting and following one another out of the room. Van sat, stunned. Sometimes he forgot Gatty and Shesta were Dilandau's subordinates; they were so friendly with one another.

And so, he was alone with Dilandau in a strange room. He heard the sound of a wooden drawer opening and closing and he turned to face the noise. Dilandau stood at a tall dresser, holding out the tunic Van had lent him. "I had it washed last night."

Whoa... Van was not in a strange room; he was in Dilandau's room! "I really like the fabric and make. I might have one made for myself."

Dilandau liked the way he dressed! He wanted to dress like Van! "I... can take you to the shop I got it from one day. The lady can do the alterations while you're there in the store."

Dilandau folded the tunic, humming lightly. "Just pick a day; I'll make myself free."

Dilandau was willing to change his plans? Not bad, but he still had so far to go...

"Van?"

Dilandau had Van's full attention. He watched as the pale Adonis' lids drooped and his lashes brushed his cheeks. "When– or rather– how did you know... that you were attracted to Miguel?"

Van nearly bit off his tongue. "What?"

Dilandau came back to the table, passing Van his shirt and sitting back down. "How do you know you like him? I've heard others describe attraction, but it's always different for everyone."

Oh no...no... how could Van explain such a delicate thing to such a delicate person and have it all be false. He couldn't describe feelings he didn't have for Miguel to Dilandau...

So he described the feelings he had for Dilandau.

"When I see him, my heart leaps into my throat, my palms sweat and I take leave of all my senses. I want to be near him, I want him to smile... at me, I want... to be a part of him. I see this wonderful, beautiful person that I want to know everything about. It excites me, when I know I can see him everyday and that sometimes he'll talk to me or glance my way."

Van's voice grew more animated with each word he spoke, his hands gestured wildly and his eyes, bright with passion, held Dilandau's that shone with curiosity and maybe... maybe a touch of... fondness?

"I wonder if it's the same for Miguel," Dilandau pondered aloud. "He's as intense as you are, and together..."

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Dilandau called.

Spirit poked his head into the room. "Lord Dilandau, I'm back."

"Viole!" Dilandau clapped his hands. "It's about time. Come, sit, I want to have a quick word with you. Van..?"

Van blinked. "Hm? Oh...oh, you probably want privacy. Sorry. Uh... thanks for breakfast. I'll catch up to you later... Dilandau."

Van pushed away from the table clumsily and stood. As he walked past Viole and reached for the door handle, Dilandau called to him.

Van turned, doorknob in hand.

"Would you mind if I keep using your shower after practice?"

Van beamed. Did he have to ask?

"No, I don't mind at all."

* * *

The cold water did little to ease his pain, but it brought about delicious thoughts of drowning and putting an end to his misery. Miguel sank beneath the bubbles, closing his eyes and holding his breath.

How could he have been so stupid? How had that bottle of wine multiplied into three? Oh, Miguel had made a fool out of himself without Viole's help. It seemed he was destined to be the butt of every joke his comrades made for the rest of his natural life.

Why did he let them get under his skin so badly? His friends teased each other mercilessly, but with Miguel it always felt like there was a hint of truth beneath their jeers. He'd never really been popular with any crowd.So maybe he wasn't overly likeable, or nice, or fun, or any of the things that made a person worthwhile to hang out with, _they_ were supposed to be his friends.

And... Gods, it really hurt his feelings that his friends could just blow him off as if what might have been important to him meant nothing at all. Miguel wouldn't have walked out on any of them, and he doubted any of them would have ditched one of the others.

Face it, Miguel. Nobody likes you.

Not really.

His eyes snapped open as hands closed over his arms just above his elbows and yanked him upwards. Miguel gasped, as he splashed and sputtered water, pondering the expression on Viole's face. When had he come in?

"What the hell were you trying to do, Miguel? Geez." Viole was nervous. He talked faster than usual when he was, and he trembled.

But what was he nervous about?

"First, you're jumping off of bridges; next, you're drowning yourself in bathtubs." Viole grabbed a large, fluffy towel from his shelf and moved back to the tub, reaching down and trying to stand Miguel up.

Miguel glared and shoved him away. "Get out, Viole! This is a bathroom for gods sake! Did you even knock?" Was nothing sacred with this boy?

Viole surprised him by shoving him back, hard. Miguel rocked backward, nearly striking his head on the tiled wall of his bath. "Yeah, I knocked, you asshole. You didn't answer, and I was worried. Good thing I came in. What the hell were you doing, huh? Do you think you have gills or something?–because you don't!"

"For your information, I'm trying to take a bath. If I didn't answer your annoying call, it's because I was busy!"

"Doing what?" Viole demanded, blue eyes so serious that Miguel almost slipped under the water, again. Viole...serious... extremely rare. Viole surged forward to grab him by the arms and pull him to his feet, and Miguel didn't resist. He rose slowly, knees shaking a bit as they and the rest of his body remembered the reason he'd attempted to submerge himself.

"Gods Viole... I have to sit," Miguel murmured and Viole let him rest on his shoulder a bit as he wrapped the towel around him. Good thing Miguel hadn't seen it fit to remove his undergarments. He didn't want to give Viole anymore material to use against him.

Viole put down the lid on the commode and guided Miguel to the white, fur shrouded seat cover. "Put your head between your knees, Miguel. I'll get you some water."

Miguel really didn't want any water, but Viole was being so strange he was afraid to anger him. He did as instructed and leaned his head on his knees, breathing deeply to ease the tumultuous churning of his stomach and dull the rapid pounding behind his eyes. Never again... I'm swearing off all alcohol.

Tender fingers touched his knees, and there was a soft grunt as Viole sat down in front of him and a sharp clink as a glass was set on the floor. "Are you ok?"

What do you care? Miguel wanted asked. Viole had been snapping at him earlier. "Not really."

"Didn't think so, not after what you drank last night. Were you really that bored without me?"

A flash of anger made Miguel moan in pain. "Not really. King Van was entertaining enough."

"So I heard."

"Look, don't start! I don't want to hear it! I know what I did; I don't know how it got so out of control, and I'm sick of hearing about it! If you're here to poke fun, just go away."

Miguel made the mistake of trying to sit up and nearly toppled off the toilet. Viole caught him and held him steady for a moment, before pushing him back onto his perch. Miguel sat still with his eyes firmly shut, waiting to hear the sound of Viole's feet, leaving.

Silence.

"I'm sorry I skipped your dinner, Miguel," Viole said quietly and Miguel opened his eyes a crack to see Viole peering up at him, smiling tentatively. "I'll never do it again."

Miguel rolled his eyes with a gentle sigh. Well, it was hard to be mad at someone who apologizes... But... but still... Miguel swallowed hard, the taste of betrayal was incredibly bitter and the flavor of falsehood was even worse.

"Miguel?"

"Viole..."

"Yeah buddy?"

"... I wasn't trying to jump off the bridge." He closed his eyes again.

"All right."

"... and I wasn't trying to drown myself." He swallowed again.

"Good."

"Viole?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"This is going to sound stupid."

"I like stupid stuff, so you say."

"You guys rescued me from certain death, we fight side by side and have been to hell and back with each other..."

"Mmhm..."

"But I wonder, like I always do whenever-- well-- something happens like last night... when no one cares about what I want or how I feel... if you do it all because you like me or if it's just a matter of duty to a comrade."

Viole was quiet and Miguel felt his stomach twist around his intestines. Oh gods...oh gods... I knew it. It's different with me; everything is different with me!

Miguel yelped as skinny arms encompassed his waist and a nest of drying chocolate waves invaded his lap. Miguel raised his head a bit, spitting out tendrils of Viole's fine tresses and staring at the dark head against his knees.

Slowly, Viole lifted his head, his eyes sad and his lips slightly sagging. He studied Miguel, before speaking. "Miguel, how can you ask me that?"

Miguel blinked, looking away.

"I... even though we act like we can't stand each other, I thought... You're my best friend. I thought I was yours too, but... I guess not, if you could think that! I guess– maybe– you're not getting the same thing out of our relationship as I am... as the others do."

Viole was talking too fast again, rambling really. "So... I'm not your best friend. I should have known, huh? You probably had better people than me to hang out with where you came from and all. I suppose I don't compare. You never even considered it, I bet. You're right, you know? About me being kinda stupid. I mean, I should have..."

Miguel silenced Viole by placing his own hand on top of Viole's damp locks and guiding his head back to his knees. Carefully, Miguel rested his aching head on top of Viole's, closing his eyes and inhaling the clean scent of his hair. "Shut up, Viole. You talk too much."

And today, I'm glad that you do.

"I'm really, really sorry, Miguel. I didn't mean to leave you all alone like that. I just... I really wanted to be in the play. I thought I could catch up. Guimel and Dallet were trying to catch up. They feel awful about not going. Miguel, if something's really important to you, you gotta _say _something, man! We're men for gods' sake. We don't pick up on subtleties. Don't you ever, _ever, _accuse me of not being your friend, and don't ever repeat what you said to me to anybody else. Geez, Miguel... you really know how to make a guy feel horrible. I came in here to be nice and look after your hung over ass and this is what I get."

He hadn't meant to upset Viole, but it felt good to know– to be reminded– of what wasn't obvious sometimes.

"So... how was it with Van anyway? Was it total silence, or did you two talk?" Viole murmured, neither he nor Miguel budging from their positions.

"We talked," Miguel mumbled.

"About what?"

Miguel sighed, trying to recall the fuzzy conversation. He got the feeling that something important had come of it, but mostly he remembered Van catching him, twice. He'd woken up in a drug induced stupor– groggy and nauseous– and strangely, his first coherent thought had been: "Lord Van is a nice guy."

"What?" Viole shifted under him. "He's what?"

"He's a nice guy, honorable..."

"Yeah, but he..."

"He's not the worst Lord Dilandau could do for himself, Viole. He's far from it in fact." Miguel raised his head and decided to see if he could sit up straight and open his eyes.

Viole steadied him as he wobbled, staring at him as if he'd taken leave of his senses. "But Miguel, you don't like..."

"I can't force my preferences on anyone, Viole; not even on you. You know you don't care. You only went along with me, because I said Van was a pervert."

"And you've decided that he's not, after one evening with him?" Viole raised a brow as he got to his feet and extended a hand to Miguel. Miguel pulled himself up by Viole's hand and staggered into his friend. "Gotcha. Damn, Miguel. You're certainly putting on the pounds."

Miguel almost chuckled at Viole's weak attempt at a joke. He was trying to bounce back. Miguel let Viole lead him out of the bathroom and sit him on his bed.

"He's not a pervert, Viole. He's... believe it or not, but I think he's as virginal as Lord Dilandau, if not more so." Miguel winced and sank back into his mattress, curling his lip at his rumpled blankets and sheets. "Guimel was here..."

"He _and_ Dallet were, but go on." Viole climbed onto the bed and crossed his legs under him. "So... he told you how he felt about Lord Dilandau?"

Miguel made a face. "I think so. I don't really remember everything he said...or I said...which is probably a good thing, but... I just get the distinct impression that he told me something that let me look at him...differently. I mean, I still don't want him sniffing around Lord Dilandau, but..."

"You wouldn't give him the third degree, if he were to–say– go on an 'outing' with Lord Dilandau?" Miguel could hear Viole's grin and he mentally rolled his eyes.

Scrounging around behind his head for a pillow, Miguel said, "I would still give him the third degree, but let me tell you he's the guy you tell to be back at 10, and he'll come back at 9:30 and sit and chat with you."

Viole giggled. "No shit?"

"No shit."

"You know what we sound like, right?" Viole asked. Miguel felt him shifting around on the bed until he was lying down beside Miguel. Miguel turned his head slightly to view Viole's profile.

"What do we sound like?"

"Old, domineering daddies."

They chuckled together for a moment.

"Viole?"

"Yeah buddy?" Viole asked, tucking his arms behind his head and bending knees.

"How did the play go?"

* * *

Shesta had been in a few minutes ago to tell Dilandau Marie said it was fine for him to go pay Allen a visit, so long as he promised not to break anything or make anyone angry. Well, that certainly took all the fun out of visiting someone, but at least Marie was willing to let him go somewhere on his own without a check up.

The transfusion, so far, had been a success. In 16 hours, there had been no indication of rejection: no rashes, no fever or chills, no pain, and that was a very positive sign. Though Folken and Marie were trying to be optimistic, Dilandau didn't want to get his hopes up too high about being cured. He'd learned very early in the game that he wasn't favored by the gods and to start asking for divine intervention now was ludicrous. If Folken wanted to give watery half-smiles and Marie wanted to cheer and pat his head, that was fine. As long as they'd bought him enough time to finish his job...

Dilandau laid flat on his belly on his large, poster bed with one of his sketch books opened to an unfinished drawing. He twirled his fine charcoal between his index and middle fingers thoughtfully as a large house with four shadowy figures standing on its porch stared up at him. It was the house from his dreams, and the people– Celena, Mother, Brother.

What could Dilandau add to the picture now? Should he shade the porch more or did there need to be more roses in the bushes? There was a swing under the big tree just behind the gate. Dilandau had forgotten all about it! He and Celena had spent hours trying to swing over the branch it was tied to, convinced that they could fly.

Swing... it was square and the ropes knotted, there, there, and...

"Lord Dilandau!" The door to his room burst open and Gatty dashed in, rushing to the bed and leaning onto the mattress slightly out of breath.

"What is it?" Dilandau sat up, closing his drawing book. Gods, it felt good to sit up effortlessly again! He really should thank the people who'd supplied that blood for him.

"The Western borders have been breeched since we got that last report. The guy telegraphing the messages was executed apparently, so we got this morning's request 2 hours late and now this news... Lord Dryden wants us to move, now. He, Folken, Schezar, and Lord Van will meet us in the hangar for briefing."

Battle? "Folken..."

"Says you're fine. I've already sent Shesta to rally the others and get them moving, so all that's left is you and me."

Dilandau narrowed his eyes at Gatty, and the corner of his lips quirked wickedly. "Folken says I'm fine, but did he ask his master Marie?"

Gatty snorted, rolling his eyes and jogging around the bed to grab Dilandau around the waist from behind.

Hm, lets test my new strength, shall we?

Gatty tried to pull him backward off the bed, and Dilandau was quick to break Gatty's hold and flip him onto his back.

"Shit..." Gatty huffed, staring up at the crimson canopy above Dilandau's bed. Dilandau laughed, slapping at Gatty's legs and sliding off the bed.

"Lifted you, heavy Astorian armor and all," Dilandau bragged as he made his way to the closet to don his own armor.

"Heavy my ass," Gatty retorted. "And I wouldn't even call it Astorian armor, after what you did to the design."

Dilandau hummed to himself as he dressed inside his roomy closet, agreeing with Gatty. He had virtually destroyed the traditional knightly armor the Astorian general had given to him and his men. It was too bulky, heavy, and old fashioned for the style of fighting Dilandau taught and engaged in. They may not have been allowed their Zaibach colors anymore, but their Zaibach armor was still needed. He and Viole had taken one of their suits down to the palace tailor and blacksmith, and together, they'd reconstructed Zaibach's designs with a few personal flairs and Astorian colors to be outfitted for themselves and their pupils.

Dilandau didn't rave about how he looked in the blue and gold gear, but it beat stumbling around in a tin can or wearing no protection at all. "Yeah, yeah... the fact still remains that you were off guard, soldier. When we get back, you're doing push ups."

"Lord Dilandau!"

"And swimming laps," Dilandau finished, grinning as he shimmied into blue leather pants and snapped the last buckle on the dusty blue and gold overcoat. Gatty must have gotten off the bed, because Dilandau could hear someone padding around his room in heavy boots. He stepped into his tall boots and began to arm himself. Sword for the sheath, long dagger for the belt, short daggers for the boots...

He was really going into battle again. The thought brought a smile to his lips. Last battle, Dilandau hadn't been up to par and now it was finally time to redeem himself. "Hey, Gatty?"

"Sir?"

"Did Dryden say who was calling the shots?"

Gatty chuckled. "As far as I know, you are sir. He trusts you completely."

Good man, that Dryden. Dilandau would be sure not to disappoint him. He stepped out of the closet, sneaking a quick glimpse at himself in the mirror. He saw the reflection of the warrior he thought he'd never see again.

Welcome back, Captain.

"How do I look Gatty?"

"Like a pretty pansy in blue and gold."

Dilandau tossed his head back and laughed. "That means I look better than you. Come on Number One, I've got a team to lead."

* * *

Van was the last to enter the hangar as he'd been trying to figure out the correct way to put on the armor he'd been given. Dilandau hadn't made it mandatory dress in practice. Probably because he didn't wear it... Van wondered why, but never asked.

He felt incredibly stupid, clunking into the room in boots he'd yet to break in and armor that felt too big in some places and too snug in others. Being late didn't add to his level of comfort, as everyone was in a large huddle around a few key figures, and all heads turned his way when he entered.

Gaddes waved him over to stand by him and whispered in his ear what he'd missed. The plan was simple. Escaflowne and Scherazade would be carried in the Crusade while the Silver Alseides would fly moments ahead in aerial stealth mode. The Alseides would drop and begin the attack and when the Crusade arrived the Escaflowne and Scherazade would be deployed. They would fan out, each melef staying in its outlined quadrant, cleansing the area. The Crusade would be monitored by Dilandau to make sure that it was able to fly over and drop behind enemy lines to get to any surviving Astorian soldiers in need of assistance and take them aboard. Dilandau didn't want the fight to last more than 45 minutes; any longer and he claimed the battle was lost before it started. They had to be fast.

"What about the Blues? Are we going to be taking them, Lord Dilandau?" Dallet asked.

"No," Dilandau was in the center of the huddle, between Allen and Folken. "We're not going to need them with the Escaflowne as back up. We've heard good things about you in battle, Van."

Dilandau gazed at him briefly, flashing a grin and launching back into the conference. "All right, one last thing. Radio contact is going to be imperative. The Crusade has been wired for communications, but how about Escaflowne and Scherazade?"

Van frowned. "Escaflowne doesn't have a radio for internal communication."

Dilandau nodded. "Dallet, how long will it take you to remove a system from a Blue and put it in Escaflowne?"

"Not long, Sir. The radio systems in the Blues are portable."

"Make it happen."

"Yes sir."

"Sir Allen, how about your melef?" Dilandau looked to Allen, turning his head and lifting his chin a bit. Allen also turned his head toward Dilandau to respond that his communication units were fine. Van squinted at the pair, shivering at their similar profiles. Good gods, the first time Dilandau had come into his room and stood by the window, his profile had reminded him of someone else's. Allen's.

Van supposed the gods got tired of making new jaw lines for every handsome face they created. He wasn't complaining, but it was a little strange. Did they even notice it?

"Departure in 20 minutes," Dilandau concluded and the small cluster began to disperse, leaving Dilandau, Allen, Folken, and Van behind. Van wanted to move forward and stand close to Dilandau. He wanted to joke about the armor and maybe find out what was different about Dilandau that day.

The energy emanating from Dilandau was reeling Van in. Before he could take a step toward Dilandau, Folken intercepted the silver god. He watched as his brother placed both hands on Dilandau's shoulders and said something that sounded like, "Twenty-five minutes, Dilandau."

Dilandau's shoulders slumped again, and– don't do that!– he pouted! Is he trying to kill me? Van's knees had gone weak. All right, if he couldn't talk to Dilandau, he was going to have to stop staring at him. It was detrimental to his well-being at the moment. Allen Schezar might have saved his life, by placing a hand on his shoulder and turning Van to face him.

"Hey Van," the knight looked concerned. His light blue gaze slid over in Dilandau and Folken's direction. "I know it's hard watching your brother interacting with someone else in the way he should interact with you."

Thank gods that was what Allen thought was bothering Van.

He didn't want to hear another "Miguel" explaining to him that same sex crushes were morally unsound. Say, where was Miguel? He hadn't noticed him in the huddle, but then he hadn't been looking for him either. The boy had been pretty soused, and Van wondered if he was even in attendance.

"Van?"

Oh yeah, Allen.

"Um...it's ok," Van muttered, he looked at his feet. "It's not like I want to deal with Folken or anything."

Allen shook his head, smiling sadly. "That's what you think now. It seems like people always take their siblings for granted. Maybe they're not perfect or even likeable...but they're still ours, and we'll still miss them, when they've gone."

Van wanted to say, I wouldn't miss Folken. But– he knew that wasn't true. It nearly destroyed him when he'd thought his brother was dead, and now that he was back, though Van was mad at him, he didn't want anything bad to happen to him. He took care of Dilandau, after all, and he'd clearly done something to make Dilandau even more... wonderful. He should thank Folken.

"Van?"

Had he forgotten about Allen again? "Sorry."

"You've been so distracted lately. Is anything wrong?" Allen's eyes shone with sincerity. He really was a nice guy and a good friend...

Van cringed inwardly, debating. Now was the time to ask Allen for his help. He couldn't think of a more appropriate time, or more importantly, when he'd have the guts to do this again! Allen was a master of seduction. He had to know more than Van about the laws of attraction!

"Allen?"

"Yes, Van?" Allen smiled.

"I need a favor."

"What is it?"

"I... I think I'm in love," Van stuttered, ignoring the way Allen's blond brows did a dance, "but the person I like doesn't even think of me in that way. Can you help me?" He dropped his head onto his chest, waiting for Allen to start laughing, but instead...

"Is it someone I know?"

Van looked up, eyes large. "Uh...maybe..." Hope surged through him.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?" Allen winked. "Well that's ok." He patted Van's back. "Hitomi was saying something about you liking some girl before, and frankly, I suspected it myself."

"So... so... you'll help me?" What the hell was wrong with his voice? He'd squeaked!

"Sure," Allen beamed. "There isn't a woman alive who's gotten by me yet, and when I'm through with you, you'll be able to say the same thing."

Van grinned back at Allen, thinking in his head: Should I tell him my love interest is a guy?

"Thanks, Allen. I really appreciate this."

"No problem."

Nah.

* * *

One soldier had actually gasped when Dilandau had introduced himself after descending upon the Zaibach squadron and taking down two of its members with one swing of a crima claw.

Pitiful.

The area was barren, burned– probably by flame throwers similar to the one Dilandau had had on his old Oreades model. It was a shame; from the charred remnants of the land, Dilandau could tell that it had been quite beautiful.

Allen and his men had cursed at the damage, and their righteous anger troubled Dilandau. Schezar's men weren't as good as some of the soldiers he could have trained, and he didn't want any ally casualties due to hot-heads not thinking through their moves. Schezar could handle his own men, Dilandau figured, but he knew it would ultimately reflect on him. Good thing he'd stationed Allen's crew far away from the real fight.

Dilandau had counted about 50 enemy units upon arrival, and within 15 minutes the number had dwindled to 30. Excellent. He used his periscope to keep an eye on Schezar's men in the Crusade. They had landed safely in the hills where they reported seeing white flags. Schezar took over, giving the men orders to take care of the foot soldiers, watching the prisoner's of war.

Dilandau rolled his eyes and sent a crima claw out behind him as some moron tried to creep up on him. Folken's proximity alarms came in very handy. He narrowed his eyes as two more Alseides rushed toward him, crima claws extended into swords, ready to try a double duel.

This could be promising. So far, the soldiers had been moderately easy, and Dilandau was ready for a challenge. Dilandau licked his lips and wiped his palms on his pants, relieving them of any sweat that may have accumulated. "Lets see what you got."

He released a column of liquid metal, watching it solidify into a rapier and charged forward. He caught both of their twin down strikes, throwing them both back and spinning into a low kick to trip the melef on the right. Dilandau used a second crima claw to run the downed guymelef through the chest and swung out with his sword hand to parry another blow from the left Alseid.

He retracted the claw, satisfied to see it thoroughly stained with fluid from the other melef.

Target Disabled.

"I hope that guy wasn't a friend of yours, pal, but oh well, you'll be joining him soon enough," Dilandau murmured as he warded off another blow and countered with a quick thrust, penetrating the belly of standing guymelef. Life's blood oozed from the gapping hole he created, and he quickly removed his sword to block a panicked upper cut from his attacker. An upper cut?– who was this guy's captain? Maybe he'd want to finish him off...

The melef was relieved of an arm that Dilandau's red-bellied Oreades stepped on in pursuit of the fleeing Alseid.

Coward.

Dilandau scowled in disgust. There was no need to put any more effort into this than necessary. He shot out a single spiral of liquid metal, not even paying attention as it ripped through the back of his enemy, killing the target on impact.

This was all Zaibach had to offer? Where was Valeska? At least she had put up a fight, and Dilandau was itching to tango with her again. She was so cocky and sure she'd defeat him; something had to have given her that idea. Perhaps Valeska was better than what she'd given him. Everyone had their on and off days. Dilandau knew that from personal experience.

He hadn't even broken a real sweat yet. Come on, Valeska, appear and give me something to do! Hmph. He switched on his public communication line, anxious to hear of any news about more action in other places. He tried not listen to it in battle; it was distracting. If anyone really needed him, his private link was always open. But, maybe someone would appreciate his assistance.

"Shit! Guimel, is that you? You're in my way!" Miguel was shouting.

"Ah cool your jets, Miguel. You didn't yell at your 'honey bunny,' when he bumped into you," Guimel cooed.

Dilandau bit back a snicker, preparing himself to reprimand Guimel for his teasing, but surprisingly, Viole beat him to it.

"Shut the hell up, Guimel. Get out of Miguel's space and leave him alone, or I'll tell everyone what Molly Big Breast REALLY said about your..."

"Shut your hole, Viole!"

Cute, but it ended the argument. He sighed, "Anyone need any help? I've pretty much cleaned up on my side."

"Nah..." Dallet replied. "I'm almost finished here."

"I've got a few guys here and there, but nothing too troublesome," Shesta answered.

"These guys are easy. I feel insulted just by being here. How could they have broken through the border?" Miguel was huffing.

Dilandau frowned. Good question, Miguel... good question, indeed. "Gatty?"

"There's something coming up fast on my right..." Gatty said, voice fairly occupied. "I'm trying to pull up a visual, but there's some sort of fog or smoke screen jamming my..."

"Holy crud, a troop of about 20 more Alseides approaching and– gack!" Viole yelped. "Oh man, they got that sticky stuff like the Gorgons had. A little help here."

"I'm closest, Viole; sit tight," Gatty instructed.

Dilandau grinned. Action! A thrill ran throughout him and he activated his flight engine to fly to Gatty and Viole's aid.

"Lord Dilandau!" Shesta interrupted his move. "Miguel, Guimel, Dallet, and I will go to Gatty and Viole. We can take out most of the units and back the ones left up into a trap."

Dilandau frowned, trying to follow Shesta's line of thought. A trap? His flame thrower! Of course. He could torch the entire platoon with the canon Folken had attached to his mecha. But... the wheels in his head turned rapidly, formulating plans and spewing possible scenarios. "Acknowledged Shesta." He tapped into Schezar and Van's private communications and added them to the party line. "New plan, there are new enemy units entering in the 3rd quadrant. Silvers, Scherazade, and Escaflowne are to report there to take down as many units as possible within... 10 minutes, then head south to the Crusade or duck for cover. I'm going to smoke the field."

"Yes sir!" His ever obedient Slayers said in unison.

"I'm there," Van said.

Good going. Dilandau began his trek south, tummy full of happy butterflies and tempted to giggle. He was going to use fire; he was gonna burn...everything! He frowned, when he finally realized he'd heard no confirmation from Schezar. Stupid Allen, always spoiling the mood.

"Schezar? You still living?" He needled the knight's private line again.

"Leave me alone, Dilandau. I'm busy."

Dilandau grinned, propping a leg up on the arm of his piloting chair. "I could leave you alone, but I will be roasting the area in a bit. Wouldn't want you caught in the blaze. What would I tell Lord Dryden and your fair, short-haired lady-love, hm?"

"Tell them...uhhh!"

The teasing grin slid off of Dilandau's face at Allen's grunt of pain. "What's going on?"

"Just do what you have to do!" Allen shouted.

"Coordinates, Schezar!"

"D..."

"Now!" There was no way in hell he was ever leaving another soldier behind again, even if was Allen Schezar.

"Fourth quadrant, south. Two guymelefs with some sort of adhesive... Uhh! Something coating my visor; visibility is gone."

Shit; he was blind? "Shesta, I've got a situation. There may be a delay on the 10 minutes, but be prepared to get to safety still!"

"Situation? Lord Dilandau, your battle time is just about up. Let me..."

"Follow the orders given to you, Shesta." Dilandau said. "Don't worry about me. I'm fine."

Dilandau took to the air, switching on his stealth cloak and scanning for Allen. I should have requested for trackers to be installed in every Astorian guymelef used in battle. Dammit, Schezar, there aren't many places for you to hide, so where did you... ah! Dilandau grimaced as Scherazade swung its sword around wildly while keeping its shield close to its chest. Two blue Alseides took turns pushing Allen's crippled melef, while two more struck it like a pinata. Dilandau was descending, when it didn't look like the Alseides wanted to play anymore. One extended a claw, hardening it. "Schezar, demi-volte to the right and dig left!"

Dilandau touched ground as Schezar swung the lag foot of Scherazade behind its body and to the right in a circular half pace, turning the body parallel to the attack. Then, like lightening, the mecha thrust its sword at an angle to the left, skewering the Alseid ready to run him through. "Good."

"Duck!" Scherazade went down on one knee and Dilandau shot a claw at the Alseid behind it. "Don't move, Schezar." Dilandau didn't detach his claw from the Alseid, instead lengthening and liquefying it until it made a nice hook. He hardened the metal and yanked, pulling the dead Alseid forward and smashing one of the other two Zaibach units now coming at him with it, and taking the other out with a second claw.

How long had that taken? He glanced at his system's clock. Six minutes– not bad, Captain. That gave him four minutes to get back across the field; he could do it! How serious could Folken have been able that battle time limit anyway? Thirty minutes, pah! But then again, he gazed around at the equipment in his cockpit suspiciously. Any one of those red and blue lights could be one of Folken's little devices ready spout water at him or worse.

He really owed that bastard one, but he still hadn't come up with one decent revenge that would truly express his sentiments.

"You can get up, Schezar," Dilandau said gruffly, still glaring at the clock. He decided not to push it. "Hold still though. I need to be on the other side of this field fast, and there's no way your guymelef is going to be able to keep up with mine, especially not blind."

He started his thrusters, zipping up into the air, circling and swooping down to catch Scherazade under the arms. His Oreades dipped dangerously for a moment, not accustomed to the extra weight and Dilandau didn't have time to calibrate the system for the overload, so he did a manual adjustment, tilting the body upward.

Just a few more minutes...

"Dilandau?"

Schezar? Oh yeah, Schezar was still in his melef.

"What?"

"Thank you."

Well, hell. He hadn't been expecting one, but hearing it sure was nice. "Any time." His private line was tapped again and he frowned at the frequency the person used.

"Dilandau!"

"Folken," Dilandau beamed.

"Your time is up!"

"I'm landing, geez Folken. Can't a fella except a 'thank you,' in peace." Dilandau chuckled as he set down carefully, still holding Scherazade in an odd bear hug.

"Everyone clear?"

"All accounted for, sir!"

"You all right, Schezar?" As he spoke, he was releasing Scherazade and stepping away from it.

"I'm fine."

"Good, get down and be glad your visor's ruined. I'm about to start a _big_ fire."

* * *

Allen couldn't believe he'd been rescued by Dilandau. He sat in his wounded Scherazade, replaying previous events in his mind. He'd been caught by surprise by 4 Zaibach guymelefs and one had shot tar from its arm onto his visor, rendering him sightless. Allen had thought he was a goner for sure, when Dilandau had called to him. He hadn't wanted the boy to come for him; he hadn't expected the boy to come for him, but he had. Allen blinked, rubbing his eyes and running his hands through sweaty hair. He'd trusted Dilandau enough to guide him blind in battle. Gods, when he'd told Gaddes he'd give the kid a chance, he hadn't meant with his life!

But life was particularly fond of playing those kind of jokes on him.

He owed Dilandau.

Sighing deeply, he slumped in his chair listening to the sounds of Dilandau unleashing the massive blow torch Folken had foolishly built into his mecha. He rolled his eyes at the gleeful laughter that followed.

Damn pyromaniac.

But as Allen imagined large orange and red blossoms of fire erupting from Dilandau's flame thrower and gobbling up any left over enemy troops in their path, he wanted to laugh too. There was something terribly amusing about fire and the way it destroyed everything in its path. So long as that everything wasn't something of yours...

He scowled at a memory of his small sister Celena that had wormed its way into consciousness. The little hellion had made a bonfire of his new trousers and shoes and had laughed and danced around it like some sort of faerie, until Allen took it upon himself to spank her. Mother had been too soft on the girl... or boy as Celena had always insisted. She had claimed to be a boy with an imaginary twin brother that only spoke to her. Crazy kid...

He'd hated her then, but as he'd told Van just before they left for battle: siblings were not always likeable, but one did miss them when they'd gone or, in Celena's case, disappeared.

Allen's amusement about the fire ceased and a frown graced his lips and wrinkled his brow. This was no time to be thinking about Celena or family issues. He opened his line of communication with the Crusade. "Is everyone all right?"

"Boss! Hey! Yeah, everyone's fine," Reeden's voice spoke back to him. "We saved about 17 guys. Zaibach really worked em' over, but we stomped em' good, huh?"

"I suppose."

"Hey, you ok, Boss? Some of the Slayer boys say you were having some trouble."

"I'm fine. Surprisingly, thanks to Dilandau."

"Silver Boss saved your ass? No way! I didn't think you'd stand still and let him," Reeden crowed. "Hey... Kio, Boss let Silver Kid save his bum."

Allen shook his head as the men on deck laughed. Silver Boss? Silver Kid? His men were not only friendly with the Slayers, but Dilandau as well?

Great, good gods.

"Got orders for us, Boss?" Gaddes' smooth voice crackled, as he'd undoubtedly shoved Reeden away.

"No," Allen shook his head, feeling a bit defeated. Exhaling gently, he said, "This is Dilandau's mission. He's giving the orders today. But I do have a request."

"Go ahead."

"I need you to bring the Crusade around to Scherazade and guide me into the hangar. We've got a visor to clean."

Dryden was waiting in the hangar for them upon return, and Allen groaned at the prospect of having to deal with the man after what he'd been through. He hoped no one told Dryden that he had to be rescued.

Allen was the last to leave the Crusade, walking slowly down the wide plank looking for cover from Dryden. The hangar was a busy area, full of troops trying to service guymelefs and test equipment. The sun had just set, but there was still plenty to do before the work day was over. Allen could claim his attention was needed elsewhere, like...

"Allen!" Dryden was calling.

He spotted Van chatting with Dilandau by his Oreades. Ah! He hadn't thanked Dilandau properly for saving his life. Sorry Dryden.

Allen pretended not to hear the bifocal-wearing heir apparent, and strode in Van and Dilandau's direction. Dilandau's attention shifted from Van to Allen at his approach, and Van frowned, turning around to view Allen as well.

"Allen," Van greeted him. "You're ok." Van had chosen to fly back to Astoria in the Escaflowne instead of riding in the Crusade.

"Yes, I am," Allen agreed. He looked at Dilandau, noting his fresher appearance for the first time. Had the boy finally gotten some sun? "I didn't thank you properly for coming to my rescue."

Dilandau stared at him out of those strange colored eyes of his, silently sizing him up. Allen kept his shoulders straight, not intimidated in the least by Dilandau. He wasn't an enemy and hadn't been for a long time.

Not anymore.

"I did my job. I would like to think you'd do the same for me if I ever should need your assistance," Dilandau finally said.

Allen stretched a hand out to Dilandau, and he gave a half smile when the boy took his hand and shook it firmly. "Good job today, Dilandau. Lord Dryden wasn't wrong in allowing you to join us."

Dilandau blinked at him and Allen released his hand. "Good to know."

"Dilandau," Van spoke up, sounding curious. He'd been quiet, shifting from foot to foot while Allen and Dilandau had their moment.

"What?"

"You've got something on your hand." Van took the hand Allen had shaken, turning the palm over to reveal fine red bumps coating the area. All three men stared at the limb, before Dilandau snatched it back with an odd glimmer in his eyes, letting it fall limp at his side

"Dil..." Van started.

"I've gotta go. I'll see you later." Dilandau jogged off, ducking under two soldiers carrying a crate between them and continuing on out of the hangar.

Allen frowned, wondering what that had been about and would have asked Van his opinion, if he hadn't seen the look on the boy-king's face. Why he was gazing after Dilandau like a lovesick maiden on the royal court?

Goddess mother, Van's crush. He had never actually told Allen who it was; he'd never exactly told Allen it was a woman. Could it be? Could Van...?

"Allen..." Van had turned to him, grabbing his wrists, hard, large cinnamon eyes pleading. "...you've gotta help me. I think I'll die, if you don't. He's driving me crazy."

"Dilandau?" Van had to confirm it. He had to know.

"Yeah..." Van's grip didn't ease. "I'm sorry, if you think it's wrong, or if you don't like him, but if you don't want me to die..."

Allen had to laugh. Van was being as dramatic as a woman having vapors. Die, indeed. Van glared at Allen, letting go of his arms and waiting for Allen to regain his composure.

Allen gave an undignified snort as his fit came to an end, and he ruffled Van's hair to ease his nerves. Well... Allen owed Dilandau one, and he owed Van so many times he couldn't count. It certainly wouldn't hurt to give setting up this relationship a try.

"All right, Van, relax. No need to expire; I'll help you. We'll start with the basics; what does he like?"

* * *

Folken was star gazing, an old hobby of his from when he was a kid in Fanelia. His room had a small balcony just large enough to set up a miniature telescope. Folken studied the patterns of the stars, wondering how much they'd changed since he was a prince.

He remembered trying to teach Van the constellations and how the boy had stumbled and stuttered over each one, determined to get them right to please Folken. Mother had found it adorable how Van doted on his big brother and tried to imitate him. Those were better days, back when Father was still alive. Before wars, and dragons and betrayals...

Folken sighed. What was going to happen after the end of Zaibach? Where would he be needed and who would need him?

Van didn't want anything to do with him, Marie and Pearce were happy in Astoria, and Dilandau would go off with his Slayers in search of adventure.

Maybe his borrowed time would come to an end.

Dropping his cloak to reveal a shirtless torso, Folken released his wings, letting the large feathery extensions of himself curve around his body and insulate him from the cool weather. Folken stared at the raven feathers resting over his body like a fluffy robe.

Black wings.

So what was he supposed to be now? An Angel of Death?

He breathed deeply of the crisp night air and leaned against the stone wall behind him. Perhaps he should go find Marie. She always told him: "It's not healthy to mope, and when you feel a good sulk coming on, come to me."

Folken smiled, thinking of the redhead and her chirpy voice that put toads to shame when she sang. Yes, he'd go see what Marie was up to.

He froze when he heard someone entering his room. He'd forgotten to lock the door... again. He tried to retract his wings in vain, knowing it would take too long.

"Folken, I need you to look at... Holy mother of..." Dilandau rushed out onto the balcony and stopped, staring. "Folken?"

Folken winced a bit as he finished pulling in his wings, and held out a hand to calm Dilandau. Dilandau took a step back, magenta eyes wide with shock. "Dilandau, it's all right."

Dilandau took another step back, feeling behind him for the door. "What are you?"

"Nothing that's going to hurt you," Folken said softly, hurt by Dilandau's reaction. This was why he and Van had never been allowed to let people see their wings. The world feared Draconians, thought they were demons. "I'm the same as I always was; only now, you've seen my wings."

"Your _black_ wings..." Dilandau uttered. "You looked like Death standing there, Folken. You... you're not, are you?"

The boy had stopped retreating, but came no closer to Folken. He was trying to understand.

"No, Dilandau. I'm not Death. Do you know what a Draconian is?"

"Make believe," Dilandau whispered.

Folken shook his head. "No. They're not make believe. My mother was a Draconian, and I– and Van– are half Draconian. That is why I have wings, Dilandau."

Dilandau's eyes narrowed a bit. "Draconians have black wings?"

Folken looked skyward for a moment, before answering, "No, they have white wings for the most part. My wings used to be white. I don't know why they've turned black, or when exactly it happened. I fear I don't know as much about Draconians as I'd like. Much of that part of my heritage will remain a mystery to me."

Dilandau crossed his arms over his chest, examining Folken for a moment before finally coming closer. "So, you're a mystery like me?"

Folken smiled lightly in relief at Dilandau's apparent acceptance of him. "Not quite like you, Dilandau. Yours is a mystery that can be solved, and mine is one that cannot, not in this lifetime I don't think."

"Your mother was the last of that race?"

"Yes," Folken nodded, "she was."

Dilandau stood next to him now, fiddling with his telescope and smirking at him slyly. "You're not looking into windows with this thing, are you Folken?"

Folken wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. A secret that would make a normal person wary with fear or flame with prejudice, Dilandau took in stride and brushed aside like Folken had told him what was for dinner.

"Was there something that you wanted, Dilandau?"

Dilandau's teasing expression faded and he looked down at his hands. Slowly, he brought up the left one. "What's this?"

Folken took the hand, turning it over and sighing at the first sign of Dilandau's body rejecting the transfusion. He gazed at Dilandau sadly, not needing to say anything.

"What's next, Folken?"

"We get an antiserum into you." Folken slipped his cloak back on and gestured for Dilandau to follow him.

"And then?"

"We start again." But I have a feeling we're going to need more than blood. Looked like he was going to get to spend the evening with Marie after all.

* * *

The room was lit by a sole lantern, emitting a blue flame. She sat in a hard, backless, wooden chair in a mild daze that was slowly lifting. She'd been staring at the steel toed boots on her feet, but finally raised her eyes to address the other person that she knew was in the room.

A tall beast man with light blue eyes and the golden face of a lion stood at attention by the wall, near a door, staring at her as he had been since he'd entered moments earlier. He was dressed and armed like a soldier and he waited for her to speak to him.

Valeska shuddered at the slight twinge of familiarity she felt for the creature that was quickly stifled by more confusion. This wasn't her room– and where were her Gorgons?

"Where am I?" She stammered, nearly jumping at the hollow sound of her own voice. She bowed her head, letting light blond curls fall into her eyes as she studied the small, round table in front of her with a bottle of vino and a full glass set out. Had she poured that for herself? Valeska couldn't remember.

"The floating fortress Delate," the beast man answered in a gruff voice.

Valeska frowned. Delate? She'd never heard of it.

"Where are my soldiers? Why aren't they briefing me?"

"They're dead... sir."

Dead? A breath hitched in her throat. "All of them?"

"Yes sir."

Valeska scowled hard, the information soaking in slowly and causing her to shake. "All of them."

"Yes sir."

All of them. How had that happened? What had they done? Why couldn't she remember? Valeska grabbed her head, arching her back and curling until her elbows touched her knees.

She'd gotten them all killed.... No, no, they had been stupid and gotten themselves killed. Ungrateful, treacherous, little bastards, all of them. They hadn't even wanted her for a leader...

And now they were dead.

Good riddance.

Valeska straightened up, sliding off of her chair and testing her legs, pleased to find them strong and willing to hold her weight. She stared at the beast man once again, tilting her head to one side and sneering at him. "And who are you?"

"I am Jajuka," the lion answered.

"Jajuka?" Valeska let the name roll off her tongue. Jajuka. What a silly name, yet it was... comforting?

"I am a soldier under your command. I alone," Jajuka said, still at attention with eyes only for her.

"You alone, huh? Are you worthy, Jajuka? Are you willing to fight and die for me?" Valeska demanded, narrowing her eyes and taking a step forward. Her overcoat was open and she was not ashamed of the fact that she wore nothing underneath but a thin cotton shirt that did little more than cover her breasts.

Jajuka's gaze was steady, his facial expression never changing. "I am worthy, Lord Valeska."

"I trust that my new guymelef is ready?" Because her old one had been destroyed; hadn't it?

"Yes sir."

She gave a crooked smile then, readjusting her armored jacket on her shoulders and snapping it closed properly.

"I haven't fought in a long time, and I'm ready for some action. What are my orders?"

"We're to join the Bronze army to ship out to Basram."

"And do what?"

"Annihilate the army there."

Valeska laughed. "Those are my kind of orders. And after that?"

"We take Astoria's Eastern border and invade. We've been given word that they are harboring Zaibach criminals ex Folken Strategos and former Captain, Dilandau Albatou."

"Dilandau?" Valeska cackled. "Well, this just keeps getting better, doesn't it? When can we leave?"

* * *

Author's Note: I told you it was long! Lol! So how was it? Good? Bad? Absolutely dreadful? Let me know! Thanks for reading and Happy Holidays!


	24. OneShot 1: The Chill Factor

Author's Note: Hey, this is the start of the One-Shot series I promised. I decided to post them within the body of Severed so I wouldn't have to make new stories every time. What a drag. lol. Anyways, thank you for all of your wonderful reviews of the Chapter before this, and I will reply to all of your reviews in the next real chapter :) For now, if you are interested, enjoy the one-shot. This story doesn't have to be read to keep up with Severed :). These are simply Dragonslayers in Palas, Astoriatales :).I hope you enjoy and please review ;).

* * *

Summary: Viole takes Miguel on a little educational field trip ;).

* * *

Severed One-Shots

_#1. "The Chill Factor"_

"So when's the wedding, Miguel?" Guimel brushed elbows with Miguel as he moved to mount the large sword he'd just polished. Standing back and admiring his work, Guimel asked over his shoulder, "You guys _have_ set a date, haven't you?"

"Shut the hell up, Guimel," Miguel growled, clenching the twin daggers he held in either hand until he was sure they'd leave imprints on his palms. He'd come to the Slayer training room to work out, not be ridiculed. Since Lord Dilandau had canceled practices that day as a reward for a battle well fought, Miguel had been sure the training room would be vacant. Of all people, Miguel never would have expected to see lazy Guimel lurking about, much less doing something productive.

Miguel took a deep breath, held it, released it, and started again on the dagger routine he'd crafted for himself. Moving kept his mind off of choice events he'd rather not think about, like kissing Van and making a dummy out of himself in front of the entire country of Astoria apparently. The whispers and low-key glances in his direction whenever he walked into crowded rooms were about to drive him insane.

Shesta and Gatty were being decent to him, but something was going on there he didn't want to ask about. The blonds would do odd things like pat his hands and tell him, "Everything will be just fine. You'll see," in sugar-coated voices that made Miguel cringe. He almost preferred Guimel and Dallet's lewd comments to that.

The only people behaving in a half-way normal manner to him were Lord Dilandau and Viole. Miguel said "half-way normal," because Lord Dilandau hadn't punished him for embarrassing himself and his unit in public, and Viole was... not teasing him. Hm... and the only person who was being completely normal was Van. The boy king was avoiding him at all costs, which was fine with Miguel. He didn't know what to say to him. Miguel supposed he should apologize, but ugh...

Um...sorry I kissed you... oh yeah, and send me the bill for your tunic?

He shuddered. It was much better to avoid Van, much, much better.

Miguel hissed as he lost his concentration and one of the daggers grazed his bare, right shoulder. "Damn." He looked at the tan area, frowning at the long, red scratch.

"Careful with those things; might spring a leak."

Miguel shifted both daggers to his left hand and glared at Guimel through unruly, honey-brown bangs. "Guimel, no offense, but what the hell are you doing here? I would have thought you'd have found somewhere better to be."

Guimel snorted, wiping the black oil from his hands that he'd been using to moisten the leather grips of the blades he worked with. "What, I can't maintain my weapons in peace?"

"Not when your peace disturbs mine," Miguel said pointedly, walking across the mat; scrunching up his nose a bit at the grainy feel of the spongy material beneath his naked toes. He would have to remember to turn the mats and sweep, before he left. Miguel knelt to put his daggers away in the small, velvet-lined case he'd had made for them.

Guimel chuckled. "What's got you in such a pissy mood, Miguel? Boyfriend holding out on you or something?"

Miguel's eyes widened in outrage and slowly he rose to confront Guimel, who'd crossed the room to stand before him. "Guimel, I know you think you're being funny, but you're not! I don't appreciate your comments about me or my sexuality! Just because you like to openly advertize your sex life..."

"Sex life?" Guimel's eyes brows shot up into his bushy hair. "Now what's brought us to the topic of sex lives, Miguel? Are we experimenting, perchance?"

Miguel's entire body flushed and he shook with anger, glaring into Guimel's mocking face. He wondered if Guimel actually liked that ridiculous hair of his, because Miguel was about to relive him of it.

"Miguel, there you are!" Viole's peppy voice called and suddenly he was there, sandwiching himself between Miguel and Guimel. "I've been looking all over for you!" Viole grinned at him breathlessly. "I thought we could spend the day together."

"Only if it's ok with Sweetie Bear, huh, Miguel?" Guimel clucked, laughing at his joke and patting Viole on the shoulder. "Be careful, Vi, he's in one of his moods."

Miguel sneered at Guimel's back as he walked away, tossing the dirty towel he held in the laundry bin and leaving the room.

"Why won't they leave me alone, Viole? He and Dallet must have death wishes!" Miguel scowled, picking up his dagger case and taking it to the locked storage closet where they kept valuable weapons. After shelving the case and locking the door again, Miguel turned to Viole, who was gathering the brown, button up shirt he'd worn in over the white undershirt he stood in now.

"They're just teasing, Miguel, like I do," Viole reasoned. "You just have to have thicker skin with them, because they're a little more brutal."

"I don't want to have thicker skin; I want them to leave me alone," Miguel grumbled. "I'm tired of having to avoid my own team, because I'm afraid someone will bring up what happened again. It was two days ago! A battle has gone on since then, a lifetime has passed.... get over it! So I kissed Van and told him...I loved him..." Miguel shook his head. "It's not like I even really remember it! And Van... That guy won't even look at me, but I don't really mind that..."

"We do still need to talk with him, though," Viole said, tossing Miguel's shirt at him. "We've got to give him some ground rules with our Lord Dilandau."

Miguel frowned at hearing that. He wanted to forget all about Van's little crush; he wanted to forget all about Van really. The boy king complicated every situation he was involved in, but he was bound and determined to follow Lord Dilandau to the ends of Gaea...

Miguel sighed loudly. "Yeah, yeah..."

Viole dimpled. "Put your shirt on Miguel; I wanna go somewhere and you're coming with."

* * *

Miguel, of course, wanted a bath after his workout. He declared it simply vile to wrap clean clothes around a dirty body, but Viole had a schedule to keep. He'd grabbed a sputtering Miguel by the shoulders and directed him out the door of the stuffy training area. "Whether you want to put your shirt on or not, doesn't matter to me, Miguel."

Viole clicked off the light and kicked the door closed, still pushing Miguel forward.

"Where are we going that's so important, Viole?" Miguel huffed indignantly. He certainly was snippy when he didn't get his way.

"It's a surprise!" Because if I told you, you would fight me tooth and nail to keep from going.

"I don't like surprises, Viole," Miguel said in a low voice. "Stop pushing me! I can walk."

Viole took his hands off Miguel's shoulders and shuffled his step a bit to walk beside him. "Could have fooled me for a moment there."

"Hn."

Viole whistled. "So... I got a note from Heather this morning. She slipped it to one of the kitchen girls when she went out to the market place for some kind of spice."

"Oh?" the dark cloud over Miguel dissipated a bit, and Viole smiled, encouraged by that. Poor Miguel. He always let such little things get to him. One of these days, he was really going to have to tell the others how sensitive their Miguel really was.

"She wants to meet again and read some poetry," Viole related, recalling Heather's large, loopy scrawl, indigenous to females. "I really want to. I mean, she's a dizzy girl, but I really like her. She's one of those people that when they tell you something, you know they really mean it."

"Like you." Miguel shook his head. "You two sound like a match made in the heavens. Are you going to write her back?"

There was his Miguel; the only person he could talk to for real about his interest. "Yeah, I'm gonna write her, but I don't know what to say. I can't really give her a day and time, you know, with the war and all. That battle yesterday was a surprise, and we don't know what could happen tomorrow...or tonight, even. I don't want to accidentally stand her up."

Miguel nodded empathetically. "Nice girls hate when you don't show up and hold it against you forever."

"When did you stand someone up, Miguel?" Viole asked curiously. This was the first he'd heard of that event in Miguel's life.

"Oh... back before I joined the team. A girl named, Ariella Magouya. She was beautiful, dark skin, dark eyes, but our parents hated each other. We made dates and snuck all over town, but one day one of my older brothers caught me leaving and threatened to tell on me, so I stayed home. Ariella never forgave me for that, even after I explained what happened. Needless to say, that was the end of us." Miguel looked distant. "I wonder whatever happened to her."

"I bet she wonders whatever happened to you," Viole offered. He nudged Miguel with his elbow and felt his friend shift closer to him. The castle corridors were alive and busy with servants running to and fro, catering to the sensitive needs of nobles and uppity officials alike and pretty much ignoring the two boys drifting through their territory.

"Hey hon." Viole blinked at the gruff male voice, purring at them... or rather at Miguel. A large kitchen hand leaned against the wall just behind them, leering at Miguel. "If that King Fanel of yours ever gets too hard to manage, know that my bed is always open for pretty, young things like you."

Miguel snarled, going for the knife in his belt, but Viole stilled his hand, winking over at the big man. "Nice try, man, but he's with me."

Miguel's mouth dropped open as Viole dragged him away from the man still watching them appreciatively. "Viole! Now that man thinks that we're..."

"So let him," Viole shrugged it off. "It's not like he's anyone who matters. Miguel, you gotta learn to chill."

"Chill?" Miguel stared at him dubiously.

"Chill, you know, be cool, relax, let things roll off ya like rain. You'll send yourself to an early grave getting bent out of shape over every little thing."

"But he..."

"... doesn't matter. Do you know his name? Will you ever see him again? Probably not." Viole watched Miguel's stormy face, hoping to see some form of comprehension brewing in those deep, blue eyes. "Miguel, people talk shit. It's in our nature, but do we always mean the shit we say?– no. Do we always think about the shit we say?–no. Stop making everything so personal..."

"Lighten up," Miguel finished Viole's sentence with him. "Yeah, yeah, yeah... Your speech about that is getting old. Viole, people pick on me a lot more than they pick on other people! I'm sick of it!"

"They only do it, because they know you'll get mad. You're fueling their fire," Viole said, then smirked, recalling something that he should have realized before. He snapped his fingers. "You're the baby of your family!"

Miguel made a face and looked at Viole in confusion. "Yeah? Why are you saying that like it's news?"

Viole giggled, wrapping an arm around Miguel and pulling him close. "That's why you're so defensive! I should have known..."

Miguel was getting frustrated, his forehead was starting to wrinkle. "Should have known what?"

"You've got the 'baby' complex!" Viole poked him.

"The _what_ complex?"

"Baby! Come on Miguel, your brothers probably tortured the hell out of you, when you were little. I know my sisters did a number on me, but since they were girls, they only put me in dresses and make-up."

Miguel shuddered next to him, lowering his head. "My brothers were really awful, but I really think being made to play dress-up is worse than anything they ever did to me."

Viole shrugged. He didn't dare admit it to anyone, not even Miguel, but he really hadn't minded 'dress-up' as much as he wanted people to think he did. It was fun being other people, and besides, running off in his sisters' designer dresses and rolling in the mud had been the high points of his days. Mother Dear had gotten so angry...at the girls.

"You liked dress up," Miguel said suddenly, eyes glittering with humor as he correctly interpreted Viole's silence.

Viole gave him a light smile. "I did, but that's only for you to know."

"You liked the make up and frilly dresses, really?"

"Mmhmm," Viole nodded.

"You don't still like them now, do you?" Miguel pressed.

"Not on me," Viole chuckled. "You might look nice, though."

Miguel snorted, and to Viole's pleasure, he didn't bristle. Maybe Miguel wasn't hopeless after all, which was a good thing for where they were about to go.

"Viole?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"Where are we going?"

They were taking the servant's stairway down into the boiler rooms where all of Miguel's wonderful hot bath water came from. "Soldier's Get Away."

"Soldier's what?"

Viole just grinned as they reached the bottom of the stairs and approached the large wooden door. He could already hear the welcoming sounds of men's voices raised in playful banter and loud laughter. Viole held Miguel in place by keeping a firm grip on his wrist, and he knocked twice on the door with his fist; then patted it twice more with his palm.

"Who is it?" a man barked.

"Viole and guest!"

"It better not be Silver Boss. His visitation rights have been suspended until further notice, and you're lucky yours isn't too."

"Aw come on, Jon-Jon, let me in! I wanna play Spoons, and my partner ain't a cheat this time!"

_Silver Boss?_ Miguel mouthed to him, looking thoroughly bewildered and slightly unnerved by the conversation Viole was carrying out through the door.

"Lord Dilandau," Viole explained as the door was opened and a waft of cigar smoke met them upon entrance. "Miguel... welcome to the Boiler Room. A royal 'Soldier's Get Away.'"

* * *

Miguel followed closely behind Viole, tempted to grab his shoulders so he wouldn't lose the boy in the throng of sweaty Astorian soldiers standing around chatting or sprawled in chairs around rickety square tables playing all sorts of games with cards and dice. Piles of money, jewelry, small weapons, and other riches sacred to soldier's created mounds of winnings in the centers of most of the tables.

The lighting was dim; a few bad light bulbs suspended from the low ceiling of the room swung back and forth every time a wild hand of unfortunate head would knock against one of them. Miguel fanned away the thick smoke from a pipe blown in his direction by a fat soldier sitting with his legs open in a chair, glaring hard at his hand of cards.

Viole was being greeted by men on all sides, and the boy beamed and waved, exchanging friendly words with everyone who spoke to him. Miguel focused his attention on Viole instead of looking around the room in a panic for exits. If Viole was comfortable here, then it had to be safe. His friend would never lead him into a trap.

Hopefully.

"Miguel!" Viole halted suddenly in front of a long table surrounded by a few familiar faces from Allen Schezar's team and some gruff strangers. The wavy-haired boy whirled around to face him, smiling brightly. "I'm inviting you to play 'Spoons.' There are no teams; every man is in it for himself, and I think you'll have fun."

Spoons? But... Miguel ogled the table, 9 silver spoons laid side by side in the center of the it. "Um.... Viole, if I play, I make 10. There are only 9 spoons."

"Precisely," Viole grinned; he took Miguel's arm and pulled him around the table to sit at two empty chairs between Reeden– was it Reeden or Reedy?-- and Kio. "Let me make some introductions... Guys, for those of you who don't know, and if you don't– where the hell have you been?– this is my best buddy, Miguel. Miguel, these are the guys."

Miguel gazed around the table sheepishly, keeping his hands folded in his lap as burly soldiers grunted at him. Reeden slapped him the back, hard.

"Hey, loosen up soldier! We don't bite!"

That's not what I'm afraid of... Miguel fought back a shudder. He was very, very glad Viole had talked him out of taking that bath. There would have been no point in it after he returned from down here...

"Have you ever played Spoons before Miguel?" Kio asked from the other side of Viole.

Miguel shook his head, and I don't want to play spoons now.

"Well roll up those long sleeves boy; they're gonna get in your way. Now, you see what happens is, Brody down there is gonna shuffle up the cards and deal em' out. Everybody gets four cards and must have four cards in his hands at all times," Kio spoke around the toothpick dangling from his lips. "What you're trying to do is make all four of the cards in your hands match. Like if you got one 4, you want three more, see?"

Miguel nodded, glancing at Viole nervously. Viole was whispering around Kio to a blond soldier wearing an eye patch. Was he really going to make him play this game?

"Uh...gee... I hate explaining things..."

"Then you shouldn't have started, you big lug," Reeden crowed; he knocked Viole in the head with one of his bony elbows on accident, and Viole yelped. "Sorry kid. Now let me finish up: Whenever you take a card, you gotta lay one down and pass it over to the left to the next player. You can only take one card at a time, and you can't have more or less than 4 cards in your hand– got that? Cause we got people here that like to pretend they can't count."

"Some ain't pretending," a man missing his two front teeth grunted, pointing at his bald companion who glared and smacked him over the head. Everyone at the table laughed, but Miguel.

Good gods... I'll take my chances with Guimel any day.

"Pay attention, kid; honestly Viole, you couldn't have snuck Silver Boss down here? We wouldn't tell. Now that would be some high quality competition," Reeden rolled his eyes at Miguel and patted Viole's shoulder. "Now, look, when all four of the cards in your hand match, you take a spoon, but try to be sneaky about it. You don't want anybody to notice ya. You also reach out and take a spoon, if you look in the middle there and see one missing. The man left without a spoon is a loser and he's out. Then we start the game again and take one spoon off the table. The object of the game is to be the last one still in, got it?"

Miguel blinked. "I understand." He glanced around the table, thinking this could get ugly... well, uglier. "Can I watch first?"

"No!" the table barked and Miguel scowled at them all.

"Fine!"

Viole nudged him lightly with his elbow. "Come on, it's fun, but think of it this way, if it'll help. Your mission is to obtain a spoon at all cost. Do you accept?"

Miguel gave Viole a long pitying look, realizing that the boy was not going to back down or stop grinning. Fine. He sighed, "I accept."

"Hey Brody, the newbie's sworn in. You can deal!" Viole called to the red haired, older teenager at the head of the table.

Miguel spied the wicked smirks worn around the table and gulped.

Viole, you owe me.

* * *

"Blood! I'm bleeding, look! Ollie needs to be disqualified!" Omar, Ollie's twin, displayed a scraped elbow to the table. After the two large twins had dove onto the floor for a single fallen spoons and rolled over the boiler room, almost knocking over a poker game, Viole was surprised there wasn't more bloodshed.

Ollie gave a crooked smile, holding the bent silver spoon for all eyes to see. "I got this spoon fair and square. Stop being a bitch Omar and sit out with the girls!" Ollie gestured over his shoulder with a wide, chaffed thumb to the four people sitting on the floor behind them looking sour. Omar raised a fist to punch Ollie, but was restrained by Rex.

"Go sit out, or next time don't play!" Rex bellowed. Omar growled, spitting on the floor and stomping to the loser's circle.

Viole chuckled and looked to Miguel who sat, holding his spoon tight in one fist. He was doing exceptionally well for this to be his first time. Miguel hadn't even hesitated in grabbing Reeden's trousers and yanking him back to his seat while he went for the spoon Reeden was just about to swipe.

Reeden had cussed him something awful as he grumped over to the loser's circle, but Kio had laughed and clapped Miguel across the shoulders, telling him he was alright.

Viole smiled softly at Miguel's tiny titter. Good.

"Deal Gunthrie! We ain't got all night!" Damon growled. He was sporting a black eye from a misplaced elbow and a fat lip from a misguided fist. Brody lounged in the loser's camp, occasionally rising and walking around the table to watch the Spoon war up close. Other soldiers had wandered from their games over to Spoons or watched from their tables. Maybe Viole should have mentioned to Miguel that Spoons was probably the bloodiest card game ever played.

Nah.

Four cards fell into Viole's lap and he glanced at them cross-eyed. Impossible. All four cards in his hand were six's. He blinked, then slowly snagged a spoon from the table, dropping it into his lap and waiting for the others to notice. He passed the cards coming to him over, giggling quietly to himself.

It didn't take Miguel long to notice that Viole wasn't taking any cards and that one of the 5 spoons was missing. Narrowing his eyes, he slipped a spoon off the table but not as stealthily as Viole had for Kio noticed and gave a battle yell as he went for a spoon.

The table was overturned by heavy man bodies wrestling for the last of the spoons and Viole jumped back, laughing as Kio crawled out of the mess of wriggling arms and legs, smiling victoriously at the twisted spoon he held.

"Dammit Pritcher, you broke the damn thing in freakin' half! How are we supposed to judge who got the spoon?" Drake roared, punching Pritcher who clutched the round head of a spoon while Drake held the tail end.

"By who's got more!" Pritcher flung himself at Drake, going for the tail of the spoon.

"Damn!"

Viole looked over at Miguel who was watching in cool satisfaction, tapping his perfectly intact spoon on his wrist. "Having fun, Miguel?"

Miguel raised a brow at him. "I'm winning, aren't I?"

Viole laughed. "We'll see how long that lasts."

"Hey Pretty Boy, thought you never played this before?" Kio asked, righting the table and looking at Miguel.

"I haven't," Miguel said. "And my name's not..." He stopped talking, shooting a look at Viole and nodding to himself. "Pretty Boy's kind of a soft name. Do you think you could come up with something more masculine for me?"

"Hey, I could be callin' you, King's Bitch," Kio chuckled and Viole bit his bottom lip nervously as Miguel's shoulders tensed. Oh no... Kio, you idiot.

Miguel took a breath, held it, then let it out. "I guess Pretty Boy's a step up from that one."

Viole almost gasped as he gapped at Miguel. Who was this man and what had he done with the real Miguel? He'd been expecting a fist fight, or for Miguel to leave in a huff.

Miguel caught Viole's eyes and gave him a small smirk. "You said I needed to– chill, besides, I've gotta beat that bastard."

It was Viole's turn to gulp; Miguel had an odd gleam in his eyes. Had Viole created a monster? He'd find out.

* * *

Everyone was out. Viole was out, Pritcher was out... it all came down to him and Big Bastard. Miguel glared at Kio as he dealt the cards. He had 2 sevens and 2 fives. He had to decide as a seven came into his hand, if he wanted to collect sevens or fives. Miguel hadn't paid attention to his cards at all during the game, choosing to keep track of the number of spoons and demeanor of the players. His strategy hadn't failed once, but now, playing one on one, he had to pay attention to everything.

Sweat rolled down Kio's large face and Miguel ignored the perspiration dribbling down his own face. He couldn't move his hands away from the table for an instant. Gods, it was hot.. He had stripped to his undershirt and Kio had removed that ridiculous chest plate he was always wearing when Miguel saw him.

Miguel decided to go with the sevens. He dropped one of the fives, and of course the next card he was dealt was a five. Damn. Another five passed him by. Double damn.

And then finally a seven! Miguel took it calmly, sliding it in his hand and dropping the last five. Quick as cat, he grabbed for the single tarnished spoon on the table, but Kio caught his movement and was going for the spoon too!

Miguel closed a fist over the head of the spoon and Kio gripped the tail. Shit, another Pritcher and Drake scene was about to play out, because there was no way in hell Miguel was letting go of this spoon!

He pulled with all his might, putting his foot on the edge of the table to give himself more leverage. Kio was big man and trying to win by strength alone was folly. Miguel was flying over the table before he knew what was going on.

Pap! Into Kio's chest, snuggled between his man boobs. Miguel turned his face away from Kio's strong manly scent accented by his sweat dampened white shirt, not losing his grip on the spoon. His hand was getting sore where the silver head of the spoon dug into his palm. Big Bastard was turning the spoon purposefully to make Miguel let go. Miguel shook his head, growling as he plotted his next move. What would Lord Dilandau do?

Hell, what would Viole do?

Kio was practically holding Miguel's weight; the boy's feet were scarcely touching the ground as Kio stood at his full height trying to shake Miguel off. Miguel used that to his advantage. Placing his other hand over the one clutching the spoon, Miguel brought one knee up into Kio's soft groin.

Big Bastard gave a funny groan and paled, knees going weak, but he still held the spoon!

Miguel shook his head. What was it going to take to make this man let go? He walked up Kio's body, stopping when his legs were level with his arms.

"Miguel, what the hell...

He pushed off, flipping himself over backward and pulling as hard as he could. His feet hit the ground with a loud clump and he bent forward, using his momentum and the shift in Big Bastard's center of gravity to throw him. Kio let out a cry as he went hurtling over Miguel, and Miguel let out a whoop as he realized Kio had let go of the spoon. The metal utensil fell to the floor with a loud clatter and Miguel dove for it, covering it with his body for a moment before standing with it in his hand, waving it for all eyes to see.

He was the King of Spoons!

The entire room erupted into cheers and Miguel felt himself being lifted off the ground and boosted onto a tall man's shoulders.

Miguel was laughing. Gods, he felt good! So good! He saw Viole, cheering and laughing with the other soldiers. His friend looked at him, grinning and pointing a single finger at him.

So this was why Viole liked coming down here and being... childish. Miguel seriously thought about what he'd done for the past hour. He'd rolled over furniture and dirty floors, fighting grown men for useless silverware, and dammit, he'd enjoyed himself!

"Nobody's ever beat Kio! You're the champ, Pretty Boy!" Damon was laughing. Damon, that's who held him up.

He was swung back onto the floor in front of a staggering, slightly bloodied Kio. Miguel looked at him as Kio glared. The big man spat to the side and stuck out a hand for Miguel to shake.

"You play a good game, Pretty Boy."

"Same to you, Big Bastard," Miguel said, shaking Kio's hand.

Kio's eyes widened in pleasant surprise and he grinned, baring a mouth full of teeth. "Hey, how about a rematch?"

Miguel stared at the trashed table, scattered spoons, and rag time team of soldiers itching to draw blood and shrugged. "Yeah, sure why not?"

* * *

Viole had to drag Miguel from the Boiler Room after midnight. The boy was still laughing and waving the souvenir spoon he'd been given for being the King of Spoons. He'd won every game they'd started. Viole shook his head as he took in the sight of Miguel in his ripped shirt and pants torn at the knees. He was a mess...

And he didn't care!

Viole chuckled, hugging Miguel and Miguel patted his back.

"Did you have fun?"

"Of course, I did," Miguel said, ruffling his disheveled hair and laughing. "That was... was incredible Viole! I was there and they were there, and I just...played, and people laughed with me, not at me! Gods, Viole... They like me. I could come down here without you!"

Viole grinned. "Yeah, you could, King of Spoons, but don't plan on it. You are now my new official Game Partner."

"Game Partner?" Miguel questioned, studying his dirty spoon trophy with a triumphant smile.

"Yeah, you know, I need someone in my corner to play poker, pool and twoi."

"Twoi?"

"Oh yeah, I gotta show you twoi! You'll be my best partner since Lord Dilandau almost got us barred," Viole giggled as he and Miguel made their way up the servant's stairs.

"Hey, I want to ask about that. Silver Boss? You guys must have come down here a lot, and what the hell did he do to get those guys worked up enough to suspend him?"

"Eh..." Viole looked away for a moment, then back. "Remember when Folken wouldn't let him do much of anything and had us watching him?"

Miguel nodded.

"Well, I started bringing him down there. We were the notorious Poker Duo, and we won so much junk it's not funny."

"Lord Dilandau plays poker?"

"Oh yeah," Viole grinned. "He's great. He's good at twoi and pool too. He couldn't play Spoons for obvious reasons. So anyways, our main game was poker. I mean, people didn't wanna play us we were that good. We were like A List, and you had to reserve a table with us!"

"And what happened?"

"Well... it was discovered," Viole began, looking a trifle guilty and lowering his head, "that Lord Dilandau is a card counter."

"He's a what?" Miguel frowned.

"Gambling games like poker and pitty-pat, and other things we played and got lots of money for, rely on the unpredictable nature of the cards dealt. I mean, who can tell what card's going to be pulled or what's in another player's hand? But Lord Dilandau kind of could..."

"Because he tallies up what's dealt and can keep track of the cards played and... Oh Viole, you knew he couldn't help but do that! You _are _a rotten cheat!" Miguel scolded Viole playfully, pushing him and snickering. "You two willingly duped people out of their money?"

Viole grinned sheepishly. "We always gave the money back; the only things we kept were the fruit and candy. Schezar's men were always good for fruit and the other soldiers were never short on candy."

Miguel was shaking his head. "How did you get found out?"

Viole looked heavenward. "It was something really stupid. You know that inventory thing Lord Dryden does every once in a while? Well, remember that new shipment of swords and shields and crap?"

"Yeah."

"Lord Dilandau, Lord Folken, Allen, Gaddes, Van, and I went down there with Lord Dryden to look it over, you know? To make sure the stuff was good quality. Well this one big crate was supposed to house 30 swords and another 30 shields. Lord Dilandau glanced at them and immediately said, 'We're short 7 swords and there are 3 extra shields. How much did you pay for this Lord Dryden?'"

Miguel chuckled. "In front of Gaddes?"

"In front of Gaddes," Viole shook his head. "He got this weird look on his face, but didn't say anything until we left. The minute we got away from Allen and Lord Dryden, he grabbed us. 'You're a card counter!' Lord Dilandau tried to play dumb, but we were found out. Gaddes ratted us out that very night, and Lord Dilandau has been temporarily banned. They only let me in, because it's been proven that I have no card counting abilities. But geez, did I ever have to take a lot of flack for that."

"As you should have, you cheater!" Miguel said. "I can't believe you used Lord Dilandau to cheat."

"Hey, he agreed to it!" Viole objected.

Miguel had to laugh at that. "He's really, really lightened up."

"And so have you. All you needed was some careful prodding and a trip to the underworld," Viole said gently. "Lord Dilandau's not the only one changing for the better, Miguel."

Viole waited patiently, maybe even a little anxiously for Miguel's reaction to what he'd said. Would he get angry? Would he revert?

Miguel's shoulders slumped and he frowned, halting them both and staring at Viole. "I've been a real drag, haven't I?"

Viole shrugged. No argument there.

"Why do you even try with me?"

Viole squeezed Miguel's shoulder. "Lets not go through this again, Miguel. You're my best friend, and best friend's 'try,' and now here you are: King of Spoons."

"I am King of Spoons," Miguel agreed. Viole released Miguel and they began to walk again. It didn't take long for them to reach their corridor. Dallet and Guimel were leaving as they were entering, dressed for a night on the town.

"Going out? Now?" Viole asked the two.

Guimel smirked devilishly. "You're not the only one who can stay out all night Viole, besides, it's not like we're going to get smashed and hop off bridges, are we Dallet?"

"No, and Guimel," Dallet said, taking Guimel's hands in his, eyes full of false sorrow, "I don't love you."

They cackled, grinning at Miguel and waiting.

Viole looked to Miguel. Well...?

"Hm, that's a good thing Dallet, because I love you," Miguel said after a beat, beaming and surprising everyone by walking past Dallet and clapping him on the behind. "Call me sometime, stud."

Guimel stared, Dallet choked, and Viole grinned until he thought his cheeks would fall off. My little Miguel all grown up and shocking the hell out of people.

"Wha..." Guimel was stuttering.

"Who...?" Dallet was recovering.

And Viole put himself in the middle of the stammering two, draping his arms over their shoulders. "My friends," they all watched Miguel disappear through the door of his room, "our Miguel has finally learned the chill factor."

_The End_

* * *

Author's Note: So what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Let me know. Please review :).

One-Shot #2: The Bigger the Feet...

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	25. Chapter 23

Author's Note: Hey! It's been so long, I don't know who is still reading this. Ok, important note about this chapter. It's a transition for the major turning point chapter to follow, so please bear with me. I tried to make this the turning point chapter, but the more I worked on it, the more I knew it wasn't time yet. I hadn't prepared the characters enough for it. Anyway, another important note about this chapter: A section of it has been removed because it was too long with no real significant value to the story, but it has been posted as a one-shot. Dilandau/Van fans might want to check it out ;). Ok, enough from me. Have fun, I hope you like it. If you don't, it's ok. It's not one of my favorite chapters either lol, but feel free to let me know.

* * *

Chapter 23

"Lord Dilandau, I just think you should come back... right now." Shesta was trying very hard to keep his voice calm and level; there was no need to alert Lord Dilandau as to how angry Shesta was with him at that moment.

Shesta gritted his teeth at the feathery laugh drifting through the speakers of his Silver. "Relax, Shesta. We were on our way back when you called. We should be arriving within the hour. I'll be free to talk to you then."

The connection was severed, private line blocked, and Shesta growled loudly, turning off his com.

That little shit.

When Shesta hadn't been able to find Lord Dilandau in his quarters, with Folken, or with any of the others, Shesta had gone to the practice hall to find many of their students rehearsing new sword techniques and footwork. Needless to say, he'd been impressed with their dedication to be the best soldiers Astoria had seen, until he discovered what had inspired their more than honorable work ethics.

Lord Dilandau had come in and given private lessons to the handful of troops he found in there, and later, more boys had come after hearing the news. Then Lord Dilandau decided it was time to teach his best students piloting skills and proceeded to nab 5 cadets and take them to the hangar. They'd taken off in the Blues hours before Shesta could put a stop to it.

Dammit, he knew they should have instated a tail on Lord Dilandau. Ever since...

Ever since Lord Dilandau had informed them that the miracle transfusion hadn't worked like they all thought it had and that Folken and Marie were starting all over again, things had changed. Lord Dilandau didn't like to talk about anything serious that didn't have to do with battle. Either they played or they worked.

"Did you talk to him?" Gatty was on Shesta the second he climbed out of his Silver. Shesta rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair as he nodded.

"They'll be back in an hour, he says."

Gatty sighed in frustration, massaging his temples. "This is getting out of hand. How are we supposed to keep an eye on him, if he keeps slipping away. It's almost like he's trying to avoid us."

Maybe he was trying to avoid them just as he was avoiding the issue at hand, that he was... in danger.

"It's not good for him. Piloting puts too much stress on the body. If he wanted to teach the cadets to fly, he should have let me know. I could have arranged something and taken them out myself, or at least gone with him. What if something happens? Idiot..."

Gatty was going to make himself sick. He was trying to take on too much and spreading himself too thin.

Everyone was dealing with... what could happen in different ways. Miguel and Viole had disappeared with Lord Dilandau a few nights that week, returning with pockets full of coins and candy. Guimel and Dallet were learning to sail, a project that Shesta had no clue as to its origins, and had asked Lord Dilandau to draw the blueprints for the boat they planned to build in the near future. Shesta coddled him and readily admitted to it, and Gatty was trying to do Lord Dilandau's work so that he didn't have to.

"Did he even say where exactly they were?" Gatty moved to sit on the foot of Shesta's Alseid. "How far from the castle did they actually go, anyway? Maybe we could go out to meet them."

Shesta shook his head. "He didn't say."

"Meaning, he's probably out past one of the borders," Gatty grumbled, rubbing his face with his knuckles. "Hey, did you try the tracking dev..."

"He's done something to it," Shesta sighed. "Jammed the frequency or something. I assume he knows how to fix it back, if something should happen."

"Idiot," Gatty groaned. "What are we gonna do with him? I swear... you know what, Shesta?"

Shesta looked at Gatty, shrinking away at the odd gleam in his eyes. "Wh...what?"

"We should snitch. We should tell Folken that Lord Dilandau's sneaking off, and he'll put a stop to it, I bet."

"Are you crazy? Lord Dilandau would kill us," Shesta smacked Gatty over the head, none too lightly.

"It's better than killing himself," Gatty uttered in a low voice, sighing deeply and bowing his head.

Shesta stared, feeling an unwanted shift in the topic of conversation coming on. "Gods, Shesta... Do you think about– you know– _it_?"

"Think about what _it_?"

Shesta's response was sharp and Gatty's head snapped up in shock and perhaps a little hurt. "You know what I'm talking about Shes."

Shesta groaned, shutting his eyes and bringing a hand to his temple. "Gatty, you came in here to find Lord Dilandau. He's not here. He'll be back soon. I'll send someone to let you know..."

"Shesta," Gatty cut him off and Shesta barely suppressed a growl. Gatty had a horrible tendency to want to discuss things that made others uncomfortable without a thought in the world that maybe they didn't want to talk about it. "I didn't just come in here to find, Lord Dilandau. In fact, I kinda knew I wouldn't find him. I came in here, because Viole told me you were here."

"And why would you want to find me?" Shesta asked, irritation growing. Gods, why was Gatty's presence making him so angry? Everything seemed to aggravate him as of late. He'd nearly thrown a tantrum over cold porridge that morning, but had managed to contain himself before actually expressing his discontent.

"Shesta, I'm worried about you," Gatty said softly. "And I think..."

"You're worried?– About me? Why?" Shesta chuckled, a sound hard on even his ears.

Why can't I relax? It's only Gatty.

Shesta felt a hand on his arm. "Lets talk, Shes. Just you and me. The same thing that's bothering you is bothering all of us, but you keep it all inside until you explode and start..."

"Yelling at people like I'm insane?" Shesta finished for Gatty, spreading his arms then letting them drop to his sides, slapping his thighs with a loud "pop." Yeah, so? Maybe that was how Shesta liked to deal with stress. Who the hell did Gatty think he was to be able to criticize anyone else?

"Why should I talk to you, Gatty? Who do you think you are, huh?"

"Your friend, Shesta, a friend that you're scaring. You're not the only one that's..." Gatty broke off, looking at his knees. "Look, I... I need to talk too, and you're my best friend, so I want to tell you how I feel. I have to tell someone, Shes; I can't just keep quiet. If you don't want to talk then maybe you could just listen to me, ok? Will you?"

Shesta's brows drew together in confusion. All Gatty wanted was someone to listen to him? He wasn't going to press Shesta anymore?

"Shes, can I?" Gatty didn't raise his eyes.

"Yeah, sure Gatty. I'm listening."

But I don't want to hear.

"I'm scared," Gatty's voice was incredibly soft, like a purr. "I don't want Lord Dilandau to...to die, Shesta, and I don't know what I'll do if he does. I'm not ready. If there was something I could do, anything I could give to keep him here, to protect him– forever– I'd do it. I'd give it up. I... feel the same way about you and the others too. You're all I have now. After the war, I figured we'd all stick together, you know? Travel, do stuff as a team. We'd get married as a group, live in the same town and be neighbors– silly crap like that. Together we're invincible... yet here I am, sitting in a dark hangar with you, talking about things we can't do anything about. We're helpless, Shesta. The best soldiers in the damn world, and we are completely and utterly helpless."

Gatty's voice rose and cracked as he spoke and at the end, Shesta could hear tears... but he wouldn't look at Gatty to confirm it. He stared at his boots, lips trembling.

"Shes, what else do we know how to do, but be soldiers under Lord Dilandau? What's next for us, when he's gone?"

Gatty was saying too many things that Shesta tried to tune out during the day. Those were things he thought about alone in bed, in the dark, where no one could hear him weep.

I cry in the dark.

"Say something, Shesta. Let me know you were really listening to me," Gatty pleaded brokenly. He made no move to touch Shesta.

Shesta's only reply was a hitching breath and a vigorous shake of his head.

"Please?"

There's too much light in here.

"I can't cry."

"What?"

"I can't cry," Shesta reiterated more firmly, his voice echoing from walls. "Not now. You need a new best friend, Gatty, because... I can't do this. I don't want to listen to you or answer your questions." He mussed his hair. "I was fine on my own, just go away Gatty. I'll call you when Lord Dilandau arrives."

Remember how mad you were about Lord Dilandau sneaking off earlier... bring those feelings back. Forget Gatty.

"Make me leave, Shesta."

Gatty's voice was hard, and Shesta blinked at him. Gatty's wet stare was level and serious. He wasn't moving.

"I'm not going to fight you, Gatty," Shesta whispered and that was the only way Gatty was going to be moved... Shesta realized. Was he shaking? Gods, he was shaking. "Leave, Gatty! Please, just get out! You're making me... and I can't let..."

"What, Shesta? I'm making you what, and what can't you do?– besides cry?" Gatty asked easily. "Look, Shesta," Gatty began, his body twitched as if he wanted to stand, but he remained sitting. Good. If Gatty touched Shesta, he was going to bite him.

"I'm going to admit something. I'm first in command, and when Lord Dilandau is down or away, the others look to me and I look to you, ok? I need you."

Shesta snorted . What else was new? "And I'm standing behind you, Gatty. You don't have to do anything hard without me."

"Except go through this," Gatty said. "Shesta, we're in this together and I feel like I'm grieving alone."

Grieving? Over what? Lord Dilandau wasn't... "He's not dead yet, Gatty! You're all acting like he's... How can you... Oh shit..."

Not _dead_ yet...

He'd voiced it.

_Dead_.

He covered his face.

"Go away, Gatty."

"And what, come back after your nervous breakdown?"

"I'm not going to have a nervous breakdown... Dammit, Gatty!" Shesta rubbed at his burning eyes. "Fine! Lord Dilandau's going to die! Folken and Marie can't get anything right and we never should have come here and joined this stupid war cause! Our revenge was complete; we should have moved on; taken care of him ourselves. But no, no we placed our hope in Folken and he failed, and now Lord Dilandau's given himself this new life's mission and won't rest until he's won this war or dies trying, and he will die, Gatty."

Shesta paced around Gatty, pulling at his hair. "And when he dies, I don't know what will happen. Maybe...maybe we'll stick together, maybe the ones of us with homes will return to them, who knows? I don't want to think about it, Gatty! When I think about it... I..." He stopped pacing, bringing the knuckle of one of his hands to his mouth and biting down, diverting his focus on a different pain.

Slowly, he turned to look at his comrade. Gatty still sat in the same place, watching Shesta carefully, his face a mask of quiet concern. He said nothing at all.

Shesta moved toward him, sinking to his knees before him and staring. "Is that what you wanted to hear, Gatty? Did you need me to tell you that I'm as lost as you are? – that I'm on edge? Did you want to see me cry?"

Gatty shook his head, reaching out to take Shesta's shoulders. "No, Shesta."

"Don't give me crap about you wanting to make sure I was ok..."

"It's not crap. You need this, I need it... Viole, Miguel, Dallet and Guimel need it."

"And are you going to go to each one of them and push until they break, Gatty?" Shesta questioned. "Can you do that?"

"If it's what it takes, I'll try it, but... I'd like your help," Gatty said. "We need to organize a meeting, a gathering for all of us. We need to talk about this, the future, everything. Lord Dilandau has come to some sort of strange acceptance of his condition and... we haven't yet. Talking to you just now made me feel better, lighter. Like I just shared my burden, and you... you can't tell me that after all that screaming you don't feel a little better."

Shesta frowned; he did feel better, but he didn't have to admit that to Gatty. Smug bastard's head was swollen enough.

"I just... we need to talk Shesta. I know there are things Lord Dilandau hasn't told us and he probably has a lot of stuff he wants to tell us. If he knows that we're ready to listen, maybe he'll stop running from us. He may feel that he has to hide things from us to protect us. You know how he is. He doesn't want to hurt us, can't face us or risk bringing our fears to surface, so he's keeping to himself. I don't want him to..."

"Get like me?" Shesta asked wryly, and Gatty chuckled lightly.

"Precisely."

Shesta shook his head, fighting a reflexive smile at Gatty's return to good humor. How did they always manage to come back to this state? The castle could cave in and one or the other would inevitably find something to giggle about.

Shesta sighed, getting himself off the floor and sitting beside Gatty. "We make a fine couple."

"Because we're both nutty as fruitcakes?" Gatty retorted, risking an arm around Shesta's shoulders. Shesta didn't shrug the heavy limb and leaned in to Gatty's warmth, feeling the tremors that rocked his frame upsetting Gatty's as well.

"Because we're both clueless, but try to be team leader anyway," Shesta corrected softly. "I'll help you with the group session. Is Lord Dilandau to be invited?"

Gatty nodded, resting his head on top of Shesta's when Shesta laid his on Gatty's shoulder. "Mmhm. He's the one to talk to us. I mean, who knows better than him how to deal, and letting go will probably help him more than any of us. It'll be a great relief to him o get everything off his chest in a controlled environment."

"Meaning Guimel will not be providing alcohol," Shesta said.

"No alcohol," Gatty agreed.

They waited for Lord Dilandau's return together, discussing possible layouts for the meeting and just what they might say to Lord Dilandau when he finally made his appearance.

The roar of Seven Alseides approaching grabbed their attention and the wind of their landing stirred their hair.

Lord Dilandau was the first pilot to exit his melef, climbing down the body of his Oreades, giddy and soaked with sweat. He beamed at Shesta and Gatty, calling to the cadets to lock down the Blues and dismount, before walking over to them.

Shesta stared at the bounce in his captain's step and vibrance in his eyes as he stopped before them, stance wide with his hands on his hips. "Told you I'd be back in an hour."

Shesta wanted to smack him, hug him, and scream at him at the same time. He wanted to shake him until he saw sense.

Do you want to know what Gatty and I have been talking about for the past hour while we waited for you?

"You haven't been waiting for me, have you?" Lord Dilandau asked, frowning down at them suddenly.

Shesta bit the inside of his cheek to hold his fiery retort in check,. He and Gatty had decided not to use inflammatory words toward Lord Dilandau. Shesta felt Gatty go rigid and he shivered as Gatty's warmth withdrew from him and the other boy rose from his sitting position. "You left without a word to any of us, Lord Dilandau. We didn't know where you were."

Lord Dilandau regarded Gatty a moment and shot a brief glance back down at Shesta. His frown deepened momentarily, before pulling taunt and turning up into a sardonic half smirk. "I only went a few miles outside of Palas' border, gentlemen. Not far enough to be outside the range of Folken's stupid binoculars."

Folken had known where Lord Dilandau was?

"And while I appreciate your concern, I can take care of myself," Lord Dilandau finished, folding his arms over his chest, eyes hard.

"No one's forgotten that you can, sir, but maybe I would have liked to go. We could have taken more cadets out if there had been two capable pilots..."

"I didn't want to take more cadets out. I was just fooling around, Gatty. We don't have adequate time to train guymelef pilots. I just wanted to see how they'd handle," Lord Dilandau said flatly, tapping an impatient toe. "Is this going to become an argument?"

Shesta flushed, rising to stand beside Gatty. "Only if you make it one. Lord Dilandau, Gatty and I have been talking and..."

"Oh really? Talking about what pray tell?"

Nervous cadets gave weak smiles as they tiptoed out of the hangar, not wanting to be caught in an altercation between superiors.

"We need to have a meeting, all of us," Gatty said after the last cadet disappeared, slamming the door to the room closed on accident as indicated by the tiny yelp he gave.

A pale brow rose as Lord Dilandau studied Gatty.

"We... need to discuss some things, serious things." Gatty's voice was faltering as it had earlier when it was just he and Shesta.

Lord Dilandau unfolded his arms, running slender fingers through soggy silver tresses. The expression in his eyes was strange and his mouth was a tight line. "What sort of things, Gatty?"

"L...Lord Dilandau, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Gatty said softly, looking to Shesta for support.

"Lord Dilandau, it's time to talk about the future. We've been avoiding it, putting it off, but even you can't anymore. Your actions as of late tell us that we... may not have much time left," Shesta said pointedly. Carefully, he reached out to take his arm.

Gods, that arm was so thin.

"There are things we need to know about you and what you want from us now. It's obvious you don't want soldiers anymore, but you're not letting us be friends either when you run away from us."

Shesta held fast when he felt Lord Dilandau trying to free himself. "The others are around. We can get everyone together and grab some snacks, and then we..."

Lord Dilandau wretched his arm free with a rough tug and smacked Shesta hard across the face, the resounding crack distracting all of them for a moment. Shesta stared at Lord Dilandau, bringing a hand to his reddened face and blinking as fresh tears came to his eyes...

At the look on Lord Dilandau's face.

He looked...

"Lord Dilandau...?"

"Stop looking at me like that!" His voice was unlike Shesta had ever heard it before. He sounded tortured.

"We... we didn't mean... If you don't feel comfortable..." Shesta couldn't even begin to express his emotions, his reaction to Lord Dilandau's utter devastation.

That was what it was, devastation.

He was betrayed. His soldiers– his friends– were admitting defeat...

Before he'd even conceded himself.

Oh no... We read wrong; we read him all wrong.

"Oh gods, Lord Dilandau. I'm so sorry," Shesta reached out again. "I didn't think..."

Lord Dilandau was shaking his head, covering his face with his hands and for one horrible moment Shesta thought he was crying. He turned to Gatty who looked as horrified as Shesta felt. Gatty saw it too...

"Lord Dilandau, why don't we go to my room? We can play cards or something and... forget about this. We'll forget we ever said anything. How about that, huh?"

Gatty was desperate, Shesta was hopeful, and Lord Dilandau pulled his hands from his face. It was dry and smooth, no tears, but his eyes were hollow.

He took a slow breath. "Do what you want with your time. Have a meeting if you like. I'm going to take a shower."

Shesta and Gatty watched as he turned to leave, his stride quick.

Should they stop him?

Pale fingers stretched toward the door handle, but before pulling it open, the silver head turned and Lord Dilandau gave them a soft, sad smile... a hint of it showing in his eyes. "I'm sorry for worrying you."

He didn't bother closing the door, knowing that Shesta and Gatty wouldn't remain long after his departure.

"What the hell did we just do?" Gatty asked Shesta, blue eyes fearful.

Shesta was sure his own eyes reflected Gatty's emotion. "I didn't know he was afraid."

"Shit."

Shit was right.

"Shesta?"

"Hmm?" What a mess.

"Thanks for..."

"Getting it together to back you up?" Shesta supplied.

Gatty nodded, giving him a half smile and patting his shoulder. "Yeah and helping me clean this up. Gods, we screwed up big."

You got that one right.

"Joy," Shesta murmured. "Gatty, have I ever told you what a pleasure it is to work with you?"

"No."

"Good."

* * *

"Van, he's given you the perfect opportunity to ask him out," Allen said gently. The blond knight was so patient with the backward teenager, and Van was grateful for it. There was just so much he didn't know, and he had been sure Allen would laugh at him.

"But... would it be a date? I don't think it should be. Isn't it too soon? He... doesn't have a clue about me or how I feel. I don't want to scare him." And I don't want to scare me. Gods, what if I did say it was a date and he accepted? How would I conduct myself?

"What are you thinking, Van?"

Van almost scowled at Allen. They both sat on his bed, Allen neatly near the edge and Van in a messy sprawl, rumpling the comforter with his boots. "Um... well, I was just thinking about it being a date, a real date. Allen, I haven't spent enough time with you to know how to act yet! I'll screw it all up and Dilandau will think I'm a jerk, and then his men will cut me to pieces and throw my parts in the sea to destroy the evidence!"

Van fell back on his back, his head hitting a pillow with a soft thud. Hopeless... he was so completely hopeless. Even the great Allen Schezar couldn't save him.

He growled at the chuckling from Allen.

"I'm glad you find me so amusing, Allen. Is that why you're really helping me? You want a good laugh?"

Allen quieted and Van propped himself up on an elbow to stare at him. The knight's fair face was full of apology.

"Van, I'm not making fun of you when I laugh at you. It's just... It makes me remember how young you are, and it makes me wonder if I was ever your age."

Van frowned. "What do you mean?"

Allen blinked, glancing at Van thoughtfully before grimacing at Van's boots on the bed in disdain. "I really wish you'd take your boots off. You're getting the bed dirty."

Van snorted and rolled his eyes. "It's my bed, Allen. Maybe I like it dirty."

Allen made a face and sighed deeply, shaking his head. "No, I don't think I was ever as young as you."

Van sat up, fluffing a pillow to put behind his back. "How so?"

"I never really got to be a real teenager. When I was 15, I had a family to look after, a fragile mother and a... a brat of a little sister. I didn't start thinking about the things plaguing you now until I was a bit older and more mature. It's hard to be as confused as you are at 20, Van."

"So you're saying wait until I'm twenty to ask Dilandau out?" Van asked. "I can do that, but I don't think he'd wait that long, Allen. He'll ask me before then."

"So, you feel he's attracted to you?" Allen pressed and Van scratched his head, taking a breath.

"I don't know. I don't think so. I don't... I can't... read him. He still thinks I like Miguel, and Shesta and Gatty think I do too. They're trying to set me up and everything's a big mess. I probably should set them straight, but they've been so nice to me since they started thinking that..."

"And you want to use it to your advantage?" Allen deduced, rubbing his chin in a very Dilandau-like manner. "I see your line of reason, Van, but deception is never the answer to anything. Have you actually told them that you have a 'crush' on this Miguel?"

Van shook his head. He'd never said it in words, but he'd been given every opportunity under the sun to deny the accusations. "But I guess what I've done is just as good as saying that I do. Oh gods, Allen. Do you think they'll be angry with me for lying to them?"

Miguel had to know what his friends thought by now, especially after the outing and the...ugh...kiss. When would he tell them, and was it possible for Van to clear the air before Miguel blew his cover?

"Have you spoken to Miguel after... your night on the town?" Allen asked, recapturing Van's wandering attention again. "How has his behavior been towards you lately?"

Van shrugged. "No, I haven't talked to Miguel, but he's been... cool." No pranks, no glares, no evil body language. Viole was pretty much leaving him alone too, but he didn't know to what he could attribute the change in attitude. All of the Slayers were a bit different now, distracted even, and Van couldn't finger the source of it.

"I don't know how to read him though. He's as tricky as Dilandau. Remember when I told you he had a problem with me pursuing Dilandau?"

Allen nodded, brushing imaginary lint from his garments.

"It turns out, not only is he protective of Dilandau, but...he doesn't like the fact that I'm a boy. He says he won't judge me for feeling this way, but he thinks I'm going to pervert Dilandau into liking males or something." Van rested the back of his head on the headboard of his bed. He closed his eyes momentarily, only half opening them again at Allen's silence.

The knight looked slightly troubled. Tilting his head to one side, Allen spoke, "Well, that's not impossible to do, but for some reason I don't see Dilandau as impressionable. If he likes you, it'll be for his own reasons. But, Miguel has touched on an important point. Has Dilandau done anything that might lead you to believe he'd favor... a male companion?"

Van almost choked. "Like what?"

Allen stared at him in disbelief for a moment. "Like what? Van..." He blinked and pressed a hand against a temple, before sighing. "Look, Van. Forget Dilandau, maybe you're not ready for this."

"That's why you're here, Allen; you're going to make me ready," Van grabbed for the wrist that rested in Allen's lap. "Now, how would I tell if Dilandau was attracted to males? Are the...signs...different than what a male would show a female?"

Allen freed his wrist, scowling lightly at Van and shaking his head. "Not really, and if you've observed his behavior..."

"That's the problem! I don't get anything from his behavior. He doesn't pay any more attention to men than he does to women. It's like Miguel said that night; Dilandau doesn't think that way. He doesn't know. He's– new– to it all. As clueless as me without knowing it, because– he just... I don't know."

Allen's blue eyes widened at the information and his lips thinned. "So... what you're saying is that you would be Dilandau's first... interest... as well?– if we could get him to notice you?"

"Um...well, yeah." Van scratched is head, studying Allen's darkening expression nervously. "Allen?"

"Van..." Allen licked his lips as he seemed to ponder how he might proceed. "You may very well be chasing after a person that will never return your feelings. Not only are you telling me you don't know his preferences, but that he's not even to the point in his life where he's even considering... outside affection."

Van's stomach folded in half at Allen's words.

"Van, you're setting yourself up for a fall. You're going to get hurt," Allen continued on softly as Van suffered.

No, no... Allen was his hope and now the man was telling him that he had none...

"You enjoy your friendship with, Dilandau, right, and you'd like to keep it? Something like this, something that might not amount to anything, could destroy that. You'd lose everything..."

Everything?– But he had nothing to lose. He couldn't just be Dilandau's friend. Van knew that now. It wasn't enough, and maybe... maybe...

"It's better to try than to never know. If it's all a bust and he decides he doesn't want my company anymore then it's fine, because I wouldn't be able to stand being around him. Distance would be best. Allen, we can't be friends."

Van wrung his hands together to mimic the actions of his insides. Allen had to support him. The knight had come here to stand behind him and now he was moving... Allen, you said you'd help me!

Van stared hard at the man who looked back at him stonily. Gods... I never should have said anything to him. I should have known he wouldn't understand...

The stone cracked suddenly, a smile sneaking across Allen's features. He was smiling?

"Very good, Van."

Huh? Van was sure his eyes were larger than fists and his mouth scraped the comforter.

"I had to see how serious you were about this," Allen said gently, patting Van's shoulder as Van struggled to regain his composure. "You're stepping into a very controversial affair, Van. Same sex relationships do not receive warm receptions anywhere, especially between officials, nobles, and royalty. They're dirty little secrets. We all know it happens, but it's all pillow talk. Van, are you willing to throw yourself into that scandal?"

Van nodded. "I don't care what people say about me..."

"Do you care what people say about Dilandau? Do you think he'd care?" Allen demanded.

Van shook his head. "I care what they say about him... but... but I'll protect him, if he comes into this with me. And if he doesn't, I'll still protect him. I'll set everyone straight and let everything fall on me. I'll go down alone."

Van grimaced as Allen's strong fingers squeezed his shoulders too hard. "Good. Then we can truly get started, Van."

Van gulped and nodded. _Now_ they were getting started? He'd spent days conversing with the knight. All of that was only a test to see how serious he was? Gah! Just how much time did Allen think he had before Dilandau actually gave him a heart attack?

"Allen! I could kill you!" Van shouted, punching a pillow instead of the chuckling blond man.

"Van, I had to be sure I was doing the right thing. I don't want you to get into anything that you can't handle," Allen said gently. "I had to get to know Dilandau a little more, through you."

"But Allen, I don't know him!" Van moaned, flopping onto his back. "I want to know him!"

Allen gave an odd smirk. "You know more than you think you do, Van. You're very observant, you know? If Dilandau walked into the room right now, just from the information you've given me, I know at one point he would go to your window and just stare out of it, forgetting you're here for a few moments. I know he prefers silk over cotton; that he's a vegetarian, that he doesn't care for dirty jokes, and that he doesn't smoke. I know he takes longer in the bathroom than he should and uses all the hot water without apology. His favorite fruit is strawberry, favorite color is red, favorite scent is..."

Van gasped, opening and closing his mouth. Good gods; he did know those things. Had he learned all of that just from watching, being near and listening?

Probably so.

"Van, you could write a fan book on Dilandau," Allen said wryly. "You know everything a boy should before he asks a girl out on the first date. The second is date is when you should know more."

Van's brow lifted. What was Allen saying?

"Van, if Dilandau was a girl, I'd tell you to ask him out... now," Allen said, "but since he's not... and you don't know how he'll react, I say... ask him on an outing, just you and him. Use the opening you gave yourself, take him to that clothing store and from there plan your evening."

My evening...

Van's mouth went dry. Yeah, he could ask...but gods... "What would we talk about when we got there? How do I entertain him afterwards? What..."

"Van," Allen shushed him. "If you really like him that much, what to say will come to you naturally, and if he likes you half as much as you want him to, he'll provide you with material."

But... Geez, Allen made it sound so easy, but easy was Allen Schezar not Van Slanzar de Fanel! This is my lesson!

Am I ever glad I'm not paying this guy!

"Allen! I need more guidance than that! You have to teach me small talk, banter, something to do if I get all stupid and tongue tied! Allen, stop laughing!"

Allen didn't even try to smother his "Ha, Ha's" at Van's expense. "Van... you're being ridiculous. Sometimes you just have to put yourself out on a limb. You don't want to come off as rehearsed. Just be yourself, and if he's not charmed by it, then take it a 'he's not impressed by you.'"

"And if he's not impressed by me?"

"You decide if you want to give it another go, or give up. Van, there are lots of people you're going to like, many people you're going to attempt relationships with, and only a select few you're actually going to succeed with. Part of growing up is falling on your face... quite a few times," Allen said with a chuckle, his expression soft and eyes light.

Van blinked. Well, Van was certainly always falling on his face in front of Dilandau. "Have you fallen on your face before, Allen?"

"Oh, dozens of times, let me assure you," Allen said offhandedly, face turning briefly bitter. "I still do."

Still? Van frowned, trying to recall a time Allen had made a fool of himself. The knight was always perfectly groomed and composed around everyone. He always knew what to say and rarely ever lost his cool– Unless Dryden was around, then he... Dryden! Dryden and Princess Millerna!

Van giggled and Allen rolled his eyes.

"So you really do have a thing for the Princess," Van commented, wiping his eyes.

Allen merely snorted. "She's only a girl."

"So's Hitomi, and you're with her," Van pointed out.

Allen's pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes a bit in thought. After a while he sighed. "I don't really know why."

Van jerked, staring at Allen. "What?"

"Hitomi," Allen said with another sigh. "I don't know what pushed me to kiss her. My feelings for her now don't match the ones I held for her that day on the bridge. The day I thought I'd made you hate me, but I was wrong about that, wasn't I? You..." Allen studied Van for a second, "...liked Dilandau then, didn't you? You've liked him since we rescued you from Zaibach. That's where it started?"

Van nodded, still letting Allen's revelation sink in. So, Allen wasn't in love with Hitomi. Van recalled when he used to be jealous of Allen because it was obvious Hitomi liked him.

I'm such a dope.

"I should have guessed," Allen said with a smirk. "What was it then? Was it that last fight? Were you attracted to his swordsmanship? Or was it..."

Van growled, cutting Allen off in frustration. "Stop it; it was none of that! It... had nothing to do with fighting."

Allen raised a blond brow. "Oh? Dilandau did things other than fight back then?"

Van glared, but slowly lost his aggravation at Allen's teasing smile. "He slept."

Allen didn't say a word.

"And when he sleeps, he looks like a god," Van whispered. "I couldn't kill him that day, Allen. I had the chance to slit his throat for Fanelia, but for the love of the gods– a god– I couldn't kill him."

Van lowered his head, letting dark hair obscure his eyes as he listened to Allen's soft breathing and the sounds of bed skirts rustling as the knight shifted. The bed gave a slight groan as Allen stood, straightening his long jacket and dusting his sleeves.

"Had enough of me?" Van asked, still not raising his head.

He felt Allen's long fingers in his hair. "No, not at all. I was thinking that we should find you something to wear. If you're going somewhere with Dilandau, you'll want to look your best. It is a custom to want your date to be the good-looking one in the relationship, but you don't want the scale to be so unbalanced people question your worthiness of accompaniment."

Van's head snapped up, staring at Allen in disbelief. "You're not serious?"

Allen's expression was grave and Van pressed a hand to his lips almost expecting a butterfly to escape. "You mean for me to ask him... tonight?"

"We don't know how long this peace will last, so yes, I mean for you to ask him tonight," Allen said simply. "Now, what material would you like to wear? We'll start there."

Van moaned, pulling a pillow over his face. What was it with beautiful people and being impatient? Nothing could ever wait for them.

Perhaps, being plain was a virtue for it brought patience with it.

There was a knock at the door and Van was more than happy to get away from Allen and open it. It was probably Merle... but then again, she wouldn't knock... He threw the door open without questioning his visitor's identity and tried not to gape.

Dilandau stood there as sublime as ever, soaked with sweat and heavy with an exhaustion that seemed to go beyond the physical.

Van blinked a split second, before pulling himself and closing the door. "What's wrong?" Something's happened. The hollows beneath Dilandau's eyes spoke volumes. "Are you ok?"

Dilandau stared at Van in faint surprise for a moment, ruby eyes going wide, before giving a shy smile. "Nothing. I'm fine, just wanted to know if I could use your shower."

Van frowned as Dilandau walked past him, looking toward his window and then to Allen, who stood facing him.

"Hello, Dilandau."

"Hi."

Van stared at the two, frowning at the way the sunlight hit them, setting their fair hair aglow and stressing the like manners in which they held themselves. Shaking himself from his paralysis, Van cautiously took Dilandau by the shoulders, ushering him toward the bathroom. "Allen and I were catching up; the shower's all yours. I... got new soap."

Dilandau shot Van an amused look, giving Allen a quick wave before disappearing into the bathroom and locking the door with a click.

Van leaned against the bathroom door, shutting his eyes against the sound of running bath water. He's taking a bath!

"He showers in here?" Allen asked.

Van nodded guiltily. Had he forgotten to tell Allen about that? As they spoke, Van was pulling open a drawer with some of Dilandau's clothes in it. He could feel the weight of Allen's eyes on his back and he turned slowly, holding a pair of black breeches and silky green top. "It's not what you think, Allen or else I would have told you."

Allen raised a brow.

"He uses my bathroom after practices to clean up so Folken won't be able to tell how much work he's been doing." Van laid Dilandau's clothes out on his bed and smoothed them out carefully. "It used to be maybe twice a week, but he comes in almost daily now. He started keeping a few things here to change into."

Allen closed the door to the closet, leaning on it elegantly with his arms folded over his chest. "Why doesn't he want Folken to know how much work he's doing? Folken called him here to work, didn't he?"

Van played with the small, black buttons of Dilandau's shirt. No one would say, and Van didn't dare to ask, but... "I think something's wrong with him. He looks... Well, you've seen how he looks, and Folken and his Slayers hover. They're really worried about him, Allen. I want to be worried too, but then Dilandau comes and erases my concern when he challenges me to duels and wipes the floor with my ass each time. No sick person could do that."

Van smiled, recalling the routine duels he had with Dilandau. He was getting better at countering Dilandau's attacks, but the other boy always seemed to have a hidden advantage. One day, Van would learn what it was. He liked it when Dilandau won. He loved seeing the exuberant grin he flashed at the moment of victory, but once, just once, Van wanted to take him down.

Damn manly pride.

"He has looked better," Allen commented, looking thoughtful. He opened the door to the closet again and walked inside, quietly inspecting Van's wardrobe, leaving Van to stare after him.

Allen had wanted to say something else, Van could tell.

"How are you going to ask him, Van?" Allen called out to him and Van cringed. What if Dilandau could hear them?

"Allen!" He hissed angrily.

"Then come to me, so we won't have to shout," Allen said smoothly, grabbing Van the moment he graced the closet's doorway. He tossed a silk button up shirt at him, pulling at the sleeves and matching the beige color against Van's skin. "That looks good on you, Van. I don't think you've worn that one yet."

Van shook his head negatively, folding the shirt over one arm. "And leather is always nice... if it's not too tight. Van, try these on."

Van blushed at the black pants Allen waved in his face, looking at Van as if he expected him to strip immediately in front of him. "Van, I've seen it all. Believe me when I say you don't interest me. I like softer things with more curves."

Van threw the shirt at Allen and snatched the pants from him. "Give me those, asshole." He stormed out of the closet, shutting the door on Allen and unfastening the wool pants he wore. He kicked off his boots and stepped out of the fabric as it pooled around his ankles.

Allen thinks he's so funny. Van really wasn't appreciating Allen's sudden sense of sadistic humor. Van grumbled to himself, so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear the knob turning on the bathroom door. "Hey Van, can I get... Oh..."

Van spun around instinctively, gasping at Dilandau who was staring at him, the corners of his mouth twitching up and down rapidly.

Pulling his long tunic down over his briefs and reaching for anything to cover his bare legs, Van apologized profusely as... Dilandau laughed at him.

"You've got the skinniest legs I've ever seen! I thought mine were bad!" Dilandau's weight was supported against the doorframe as he chortled.

Van wondered if his scalp had turned red too. "They're not that skinny!"

Dilandau laughed harder, staggering out of the bathroom and going to the clothes Van had laid out on the bed for him. Van turned this way and that, monitoring his movements while carefully holding his pants against bare skin. No way was Dilandau going to catch sight of his skinny legs ag... "Ah!"

Dilandau had grabbed his pants suddenly and yanked, leaving Van exposed. Van growled as Dilandau practically howled, waving his pants at him like a flag before letting them drop.

"Oh gods..." Dilandau panted, wiping his eyes and ignoring Van's humiliation. "I needed that..." Van swiftly picked his pants up off the floor and struggled back into them, only meeting Dilandau's eyes again when he was fully dressed.

He frowned. Dilandau's eyes still watered, but the mirth in them had faded. "Dilandau?"

"Hm?" Dilandau blinked, eyes clearing. He grinned at Van plastically. "Ah... thanks for picking something out for me. Silk and denim, huh? Interesting." Dilandau took the clothes from the bed and headed back into the bathroom. Before the door closed completely, he called, "Oh, by the way... Nice ass."

Once again, Van's cheeks flushed scarlet.

Nice ass. He said– "Allen?" Van reentered the closet to find Allen on his knees studying his boot collection. "Did you hear any of that?"

Allen looked up, the grin on his face answering Van's question. "Oh shut up... but did you hear him tell me...?"

"Nice behind?" Allen asked. Van ducked his head.

"Well, what do you think?"

Allen stood, holding the beige shirt and a pair of matching boots with buckles. "Those pants I gave you complete the perfect ensemble. Did you get a chance to try them on?"

"You still think I should ask? He just laughed at me and..."

"...and told me that he thinks you're fun," Allen concluded. "Dilandau looks like someone who needs to get out. When he finishes, you mention that you're going to get a new shirt and suddenly remembered that Dilandau had expressed an interest in doing the same thing."

Van's eyes lit up and he beamed. That was... "That's perfect!" He never would have come up with something so simple, but so suave on his own. "Allen, you're a genius!"

"I'll remember you said that," Allen said dryly, running a hand through his long hair. "Go ahead and change before he comes out, and act like you're ready to leave."

"But if I seem ready to go, he may think he'll hold me up and decline."

Allen shook his head. "No, he won't."

"What makes you think that? I know _I _would tell him to go on."

Allen frowned. "That's you, Van. Dilandau likes spontaneity. Anyone who's fought him knows that. You know that. It's why..."

"He always wins," Van finished. Damn, so that was his advantage, and this time Van was going to use it.

"Can I leave now, or do you need a pep talk?" Allen smirked at him and Van glared. The man was in rare form today.

"All right then," Allen said in passing. Walking to the door to see himself out, he turned. "Tell me how it went in the morning."

Van smiled. "Thanks Allen."

The door closed and Van got dressed, rehearsing the scenario Allen had given him in his head. He was analyzing his appearance in the long mirror, when Dilandau emerged, slightly flushed from the heat of his bath. "Who are you trying to impress?"

Van almost jumped; he gazed at Dilandau in the mirror. "No one," he said evenly. Listen to my voice! I sound so calm... But gods, I think I'm going to throw up.

Here I go...

"I'm going out to the marketplace to get some new shirts. I remember you saying something about wanting to see where I got that one shirt I lent you. You want to come with me? I could use company."

Oh my gods– that almost sounded normal, if you discount the small vocal inflection at the end.

Keep it together, Van. Keep...it...together. He watched Dilandau thinking it over in the mirror. The other boy ruffled his hair stylishly with his fingers, letting a few silver tendrils tumble into his eyes and studying his own reflection behind Van with a light frown.

His lips parted, and Van's stomach muscles clenched. Don't throw up... Don't throw up...

"Sure. Why not? I've got nothing better to do." Dilandau shrugged easily.

Suppressing a high pitched, "really," Van said, "Great. We can get something to eat afterwards too, if you want."

"New clothes and getting out of a boring palace dinners If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to seduce me."

Van's breath caught in his throat and he choked. Dilandau quirked a questioning brow at him and moved to open the door, peering around the corners cautiously.

"Hurry up, Van; lets go before someone comes to find me."

* * *

Marie sat slumped in her "thinking" chair, the lovely armchair they'd yet to return to Princess Millerna, with her hands pressed over her eyes. Folken stood at the lab table, rows of tiny vials filled with blood samples from servants and surprisingly curious nobles perched in front of him, mocking him silently.

None of them could be donors.

The blood of the nobles, including the Princesses and Dryden were poor matches, and the servant blood that did not clot and revolt against Dilandau's was too diseased to be considered.

If the blood was bad so was the marrow.

So much for the wide new range of donors they'd explored with such hope.

"If we were still in Zaibach, I'd consider engineering the blood and marrow," Marie mumbled. "But Dilandau's so delicate, too delicate. Fortune blood would probably kill him."

Folken gazed at her dully with a nod. Probably so. He swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to ignore the shallow hitch in Marie's breathing. The fiery red head doctor was not crying; she had not given up.

She couldn't. Not yet.

"We've overlooked something, I know..." Folken began, but Marie cut him off.

"We've looked over everything and more hundreds of times, Folken. There's nothing else. Dilandau needs bone marrow from a perfect matching donor. If he doesn't have that, he'll die."

Marie started at the sound of glass shattering against a wall. Folken held his real hand in the metal one, biting his lip on the hiss of pain that wanted to escape.

"Dammit, Folken." Marie's irritated voice was moving toward him. He felt a hand on his elbow, turning him and trying to take his injured hand. "If you're going to have tantrums with glass, use your metal appendage, you dolt!"

Folken let her lead him to the sterile white examining table, ignoring the bloody mess he'd made of the floor as their boots crunched over broken glass. Marie set his hand on the table, inspecting it while humming softly. "I won't really be able to tell until I pull the glass out, but you may need stitches, Folken."

Folken didn't reply and he remained where he was as Marie pulled up two stools for them to sit on and tinkered with the tools on the tray beside the table. She selected a pair of long silver tweezers and a bottle of antiseptic then folded a white towel in her lap. "Sit, Folken," Marie ordered gruffly. She took his hand again, surprising him by placing it in her own lap and turning toward him to do the work.

Steady fingers adjusted the position of his hand as they deftly wielded the tweezers to pluck at the glass slivers embedded in the side of his hand and in the palm. "You didn't insist I put on my glasses, Folken."

Folken raised his eyes to be met with a fall of golden russet hair. "You're close enough not to need them, and the slivers are large."

His voice was soft, toneless. The utter opposite of the turmoil that churned within him. He would never say there was nothing he could do; there was always something to be done.

But...

This time...

"Marie..." Folken whispered, trembling... He was trembling. Marie's face tilted up to him, green eyes dark with defeat and concern. "I've failed him."

"We," Marie stressed, "have done everything in our power to sustain him. We've bought him more time than he rightfully should have had. He knows that Folken... He's..."

"Don't say he's prepared himself for this; don't tell me he's grateful," Folken murmured, trying to take back his hand so he could turn away from her. His vision was blurring at an alarming rate, and he didn't want her to see him...

"Cry, Folken; it's ok," Marie said tenderly. She held his hand tightly enough to keep it in place, but gently enough not to cause more injury. Folken bowed his head. He wouldn't cry. Crying would crystalize his defeat.

It would be shaking hands with the victor.

"Marie, he's a child. He shouldn't have to be prepared or be grateful..."

"I know," Marie agreed. "But he's..."

"Lying," Folken interjected. "He's lying. Dilandau doesn't want to die. What kid is ready to die? He's counting on me, Marie, and... and..."

Something wet touched his cheek.

Oh no...

"It's ok, Folken," Marie encouraged the tears Folken fought to restrain to no avail. More salt water escaped his lashes.

Damn.

"Marie..."

It's over.

"...what do we tell him?"

He lost it then and he didn't flinch away at Marie's arms slipping around his back as he rested his face in her soft hair.

What do I tell him?

A lifetime seemed to pass, before Folken had cried himself dry. His head throbbed and his sinuses were clogged miserably. Marie was a bit reluctant to release him, patting his back before letting go.

Her face was probably as wet as his and her nose ran. Folken couldn't help but chuckle at her blowing her nose on the napkin she'd been using to catch his blood. She was such a lady.

Marie grinned weakly at him over the wadded towel. "What are you laughing about, snot face?"

Folken snorted painfully, making himself chuckle again and Marie shoved a clean towel at him. "We're a perfect mess, Strategos."

Folken sighed, cleaning his face. "Yes, we are."

There was tentative silence, before Marie cleared her throat. "Let me see your hand again, Folken."

"You're still holding it," Folken reminded her kindly.

"Oh." Marie let a dimple show briefly before loosening her grip on his hand and picking the tweezers back up. "Alright, I'm going after one the big ones; try to be still."

Folken held his body rigid, wincing at the pain of glass leaving his hand, tearing at the skin more upon exit. He shut his eyes at the burn of the antiseptic on the cuts. "I think you can get away with no stitches if I wrap this up tight enough, Folken."

Folken nodded, listening to the sound of Marie stretching a bandage and wrinkling his nose at the musty odor. She wrapped his hand quickly, securing the bandage with a adhesive.

"There you go."

Folken opened his eyes to study her work. Perfect.

Marie was right; she did wrap better than he did. He gazed at her again, finding her eyes on him. "Thank you."

Marie shrugged. "You should be more careful... and you've got a mess to clean up."

"Yes," Folken agreed. Neither of them moved.

"Folken..." Marie leaned forward. "I..."

The door opened and both of their heads snapped to see Pearce trying to turn on a heel and stalk back out of the room.

"Pearce?" Folken questioned.

"Ah..." Pearce froze, slowly whipping back around, his face full of apology. "I've interrupted something."

Had he? Folken gazed at Marie, who was busying herself with putting away the medical supplies she'd gotten out for Folken.

"Lord Dryden requests your presence in the King's conference room. Zaibach has destroyed Astoria's Eastern Border and is attacking the world powers on all sides. Aid is being requested from several countries that he's considering lending a few troops too, but his main concern is the Astorian ports that seem to be next on the hit list. "

"Lord Dryden disclosed all of that to you, Pearce?" Folken couldn't help but question the man.

Pearce cleared his throat, looking more uncomfortable than he had when he'd first entered the room. "He had me summoned, and I overhead it while I was awaiting his orders."

"Eavesdropping, Pearce?" Marie hooted from the other side of the room as she slid the antiseptic back on its shelf. "I never thought I'd see the day!"

Pearce rolled his eyes. "I was not eavesdropping, I just happened to overhear..."

"Yeah, sure," Marie giggled. "We believe you, man. No need to get so defensive."

Folken shook his head at her, barely suppressing an amused smile. He rose from his chair, cradling his injured hand before releasing it. "He wants to see me now?"

Pearce frowned, glancing from Folken to Marie and Folken found himself peering back at the red head too.

She leaned on the wall beside the shelves of supplies and grinned at them both. "He wouldn't have sent Pearce to fetch you if he wanted to see you tomorrow, Folken dear. You'd better go."

Folken blinked and opened his mouth to speak. Did she want him to go?

"I can go and tell Lord Dryden that you're indisposed and to give you an hour. I'm sure he wouldn't mind..." Pearce began, but Marie interrupted him.

"No. Folken, this sounds serious. You had better see what he wants from you, so you can figure out what you can give him."

Folken shut his mouth.

"Don't worry," Marie gave him a quirk of a smile. "I'll throw a tarp over your mess so that it won't be disturbed... and it'll be here waiting for you when you get back."

Pearce made a face and rolled his eyes, giving up on understanding them completely, and Folken chuckled.

"I wouldn't have it any other way, Marie."

He followed Pearce out of the room, closing the door behind him and wondering if the glass disaster would be the only thing waiting for him when he returned.

* * *

Allen stared straight forward as General Alloju read off a long list of casualties and damages to the Eastern Border. His grip tightened on his water glass as he thought about the Zaibach ambush and the slaughter that had ensued. No one had seen it coming and the cities couldn't call for help until it was too late.

The bastards had successfully invaded Allen's homeland and would probably move to occupy the harbor near the capitol, according to Folken.

The ex-Zaibach Strategos sat straight and stiff in a high backed chair with Gatty at his left. Neither Van nor Dilandau were in attendance of the meeting, leading Allen to assume that all had gone well with Van's plans.

If only I had suggested the outing a day earlier, we need Dilandau's natural knack of saying something brilliant right about now.

A battle in the harbor would be extremely detrimental to the economy. The capitol couldn't take another blow like it had from the Luck Soldiers' attack. Somehow, they had to change the venue.

But how could Allen redirect a war?

"This is going to be Gaea's first Great War," Captain Belcour was saying, "and Astoria must come out as one of the victors. We'll all be famous!"

"This isn't about fame; it's about avoiding a blood bath and the death of a nation," Gatty snorted. "If Zaibach takes us here, Pala is gone and Astoria's seat of power, influence and affluence will crumble. With it's backbone broken, Astoria will fall, and the other countries that look up to this nation will go under as well."

Allen raised a brow. The kid was no Dilandau, but he certainly knew how to get to the point.

"We've got to lure them away, somehow."

"And what do you propose we do? Leave a trail of breadcrumbs and promise treasure at the end of the path?" Captain Belcour asked nastily. "The enemy will not be deterred."

"So then they have to be defeated before they can move any further inland," Folken said calmly. "If the first and second battalions along with Sir Allen and his men and the Escaflowne are dispatched, I believe the first wave of Zaibach troops can be subdued, sending a message of warning to the second wave and delaying another attack. In the meantime, every soldier and melef will need to be briefed and prepared for war. This is it, gentlemen. Lord Dryden, you will need to send word to the Allies; let them know the final battle is at hand."

Dryden was pale, but he nodded at Folken's orders much to Allen's surprise. Dryden taking orders?– Allen thought he'd never see the day.

"The first and second battalions, Sir Allen and Lord Van? That's it? Are you holding the Dragonslayers as a second wave to be sent out if we should fail?" General Alloju asked. "From what I've seen, maybe the Dragonslayers should be sent out first with Sir Allen and Lord Van. The Western Border skirmish was quite impressive."

Allen looked to Folken and Gatty, frowning at the cold expression on Folken's face. "The Dragonslayers will not be dispatched."

"But why not? They're some of our finest soldiers..."

"And they've served their purpose," Folken said firmly. "They will not take part in the final battle."

"And you agree with this, Mr. Gatty? Does your captain agree?" General Alloju pressed, glowering at Gatty, bony fingers folded over each other, trembling anxiously. "If we have any chance at driving those beasts back..."

Gatty's blue eyes glistened and he shot a pensive look at Folken, before speaking hesitantly. "Lord Folken, perhaps the Dragonslayers can wait in the wings... with Shesta and I at point."

Allen frowned. What was going on here? It seemed as if they were trying to usurp Dilandau from his position of leadership. They had showed no pretenses of discord, before this meeting. But could Gatty taking Dilandau's place in so many of the forums play any part in the actions being taken now?

"No," Folken said. "The Dragonslayers will remain here."

"Lord Dryden..." General Alloju begged.

Dryden leaned his chin onto his joined hands, gazing at Folken curiously. "You've made me promise not to question your decisions when it comes to your charges, and I'm a man of my word, Folken. Though, I must ask you to reconsider at least once."

"I will not."

"This isn't a game..." Belcour exploded.

"No, it's not," Folken agreed. "Astoria has many able bodies ready to participate and fully capable of obtaining an Astorian victory. You have no more need of the Dragonslayers now."

"I want to speak to Lord Dilandau," General Alloju folded his arms over his chest. "We'll see what he says."

"Lord Dilandau's opinion will make no difference. He will do as he's told."

Allen snorted at that. Dilandau doing what he was told? That was almost as funny as Dryden taking orders.

"Lord Dilandau's opinion will make all the difference. You don't command the Dragonslayers, he does. Mr. Gatty, if your captain were to give orders to mobilize right now, what would you do?"

Gatty straightened, gazing at Alloju. "I would alert the men to our new orders and we would prepare for departure."

Folken was not able to disguise the anger clearly showing on his features and Allen's eyes widen at the display of outward emotion from the normally stoic man.

"Well... That's it then." Dryden clapped his hands together, gazing at Folken warily and trying to smile confidently. He didn't quite pull it off much to Allen's enjoyment. Dryden had to be nervous. After all, he was expected to be king in this situation. "As soon as Lord Dilandau returns, we'll have his say, and soldiers will be dispatched at dawn accordingly."

There was a clamor as Folken rose from the table in a flurry of long robes and official documents and strode from the room, letting the door slam closed on his way out.

Gatty cleared his throat as the room stared in Folken's wake. "I'll bring word of Lord Dilandau's decision as soon as possible, Lord Dryden. May I be excused?"

Dryden blinked and tested another smile, this one a bit more dazzling and reaching his eyes. "Of course, in fact... meeting adjourned. Preparations for first light will need to begin immediately. Allen, I'll trust you to inform Lord Van of what he's expected."

Allen rolled his eyes. "But of course."

Allen filed out of the room behind Alloju and Belcour moaning about belated decisions and absent captains. Gatty walked closely behind him, catching his elbow as Allen turned down the hallway that would lead him down to the rooms in which his men took lodging.

"Sir Allen?"

"Yes?" Allen stopped walking and faced the blond teenager.

"Do you... know where Lord Van is tonight?" the boy looked worried.

About Van?

Allen narrowed his eyes. "Why are you asking me where Van is? Did you need him for something?"

"Actually," Gatty shifted his weight and sighed, ducking his head sheepishly. "Lord Dilandau's disappeared, and he's not with anyone we're familiar with, so I was hoping that..."

"...I could tell you that he's with Van?" Allen finished.

"Yes. Is he?" Gatty's eyes were hopeful as was his voice.

Allen sighed, reaching out and patting Gatty's shoulder much to his own, and Gatty's, astonishment. "Yes. They went to the market place. Van said something about buying a new shirt. They probably had dinner too."

Gatty breathed a sigh of relief and Allen almost chuckled. From the way Dilandau's troops clucked over him, one would think the boy was dying... Folken too.

Dilandau's appearance earlier in Van's room came to haunt him, and he recalled Van voicing the same thoughts he'd just had... and now Folken doesn't want him to fight.

"Is there something wrong with Lord Dilandau?" Allen asked, catching a retreating Gatty by his elbow that time.

Gatty stiffened, a muscle beside his mouth twitching. "Isn't that much obvious?" Allen blinked, opening his mouth to explore the topic further, but before he could form the words, Gatty was leaving.

"I'll see you at dawn, Schezar."

Brat.

Allen ran a hand through his hair and resumed his trek to round up his men. They had the Crusade to load, Scherazade to check over, and then there was the Escaflowne...

Dispatch at dawn.

Hm... Allen wondered if Van had it in him to stay out all night?

* * *

Author's Note: All right, so that's it. What's the verdict? Like it?-Hate it?-Don't care either way? Let me know. Please review! I love feedback :). Oh, the one-shot that follows is Van and Dilandau's "date." It doesn't have to be read to understand the next chapter, but it's a fun read :)

Reviewer Responses:

Lady Nightmare: Hello! Wow, you read it all in three days? You're good! I'm glad you liked it and thanks for dropping me a line. Take care!

Cyn, the leather winged demon: Hahaha, the most perfect thing you've ever read huh? Wonder if you still think that after this chapter. Gah, but it had to come out before I could do something more interesting. Hehehe, well... I've had a lot of concern from people about the V/D thing... I have a strange gravitation toward it, but I'm not a romance writer and I don't go for make-outs and lovey dovey stuff. The occasional flirt and pillow talk is the most you'll probably get from me. All the same, you might not want to read the one-shot that follows. Anyways, I am so glad you liked the story and Dilandau's comment about Martin Isaac. I thought I was the only one amused by it ;). Im glad you like that I'm weaving this story around the series. It's the whole point of writing it. I didn't like the way the series ended, it was rushed...and Dilandau turned into a woman... must...fix..it... Lol. Thanks for reviewing girl and take care. Hope you're still with me after this mess lol and hope to hear from you again!

Kou-Kageru: Hehehe, yeah Allen claims he doesn't believe in Zaibach's unnatural practices, but ever think the man may be afraid of needles? Lol! Sorry the thought just struck me and I had to say it. Yeah, I figure Gaddes would be the man Allen could open to and seriously value his opinion. Lol! Dilandau's epiphany of breakfast with Van would be hilarious. I've tucked it away for something a little later on ;). Hahaha, you'll get to see what Allen will do when he finds out his relationship to Dilandau in Chapter 24, and his reaction...lets just say, it's one of the reasons I'm writing the story lol. I so couldn't rush that... so if Chapter 23 is a let down... it's because events from chapter 24 were supposed to be here to spice it up, but..yeah. Dilandau's acceptance of his condition is questionable. Maybe he's so calm because he's in denial. I mean, Folken can work miracles, can't he? He wouldn't really let Dilandau die ;). So now you see what he does when faced with hard reality. Hmm.. The sorcerers making their subjects adverse to normal treatments is something I hadn't even thought about. Maybe so lol. Talk to you later chic. I know you'll send me hate if you hate it and love if you love it lol. I trust you! Take care!

Haruko: Lol Miguel's chat with Van will come in Chapter 24. Everything is coming in Chapter 24. I'm already nervous about Chapter 24 lol! Yes, Viole does have a serious side, but only people closest to him get to see it. And yes, Allen and Dilandau have a lot more in common than looks. I was being kinda subtle with their comparisons, but in the next chapter when Allen brings them to light... Eh, I'll shut up. Hmm.. Allen and giving Van advice. I see it as this way: sometimes people do things to help others that they wouldn't do themselves, and as long as it doesn't affect you directly, you kinda don't care. Hehehe, in other words, wait til it affects Allen directly. ;). We need bone marrow actually, but the process of extracting is rather painful. You still game? Lol! Thanks for reviewing girl and take care!

Strangedream: Allen is gaining a sense of humor, but the question is... do the other characters appreciate it? ;). I really don't want Allen to be the jerk no one likes in the story, so I'm trying to give him a little personality. Steal my fruit line and die... lol, kidding. Lol! Oh no, I'm predictable, you knew he would reject the blood. Actually, you probably just know I'm mean, so of course I couldn't let something good happen this early in the game ;). Glad you like the series parallel with Valeska and Jajuka. Though I've moved away from the basic Escaflowne plot, I have not left the settings of it, so you'll see more series events in chapters to come as I get into the Destiny War. Thanks for reviewing! Take care and I hope you had mercy on this chapter lol.

Pocketfirefairy: Lol. Poor Viole doesn't even get a chance with Heather before I have to get him away from her? You're mean chic, lol. Thanks for reviewing. Glad you got the Escaflowne DVD. Take care!

Omnipotent Pyro: Oh yeah, if Gatty told the old Dilandau he looked like a pansy heads would roll, lol! Yup, Dilandau's still as much of pyro as he was before, but he's been in places where setting things on fire would not make good impressions on the natives you want to house and feed you lol. Thanks for reviewing chic, and I hope this chapter was ok for you. Check out the one shot ;). Take care!

Macky: Thanks. Merle.. I keep thinking of ways to put her in, but I never really planned on making her a big part of the story. I'll see what I can do. Thanks for reviewing. Take care!

Jhaylin: Lol, you were expecting Miguel's reaction to be funny, I bet? Nah... Viole's reaction to something like that would have been funny; Miguel's too "woe as me," lol. Allen giving a blood sample– whatever for? Lol ;). Thanks for reviewing! Take care!

S.P. Vinter: I'm so glad you liked the previous chapter, and I hope you could sit through this one. It was a little dull, but I promise bigger and better things for the next chapter. Hehehe... Van is no Romeo, but he tries so hard. I do hope you check out the one-shot featuring Van and Dilandau's "date." ;) Haha, I tricked you! You thought I was honestly going to let the transfusion be a success? I'm too evil for that. Muhahaha! Wow you asked a lot of questions... If you e-mail me some, I'll answer a few ;). But all I can say now is a lot will be revealed in Chapter 24. I'll try not to takes months on it lol! Thanks for the great feedback. Take care!

Skippys Cat: Hey friend! So I finally got it up, and now I get to hear what you have to say about it. I kinda wanted you to read it before I posted, but then I'd miss out on a review. (I like looking at the number count lol). Now do you see what I mean about the chapter dragging and not being an attention getter? It's like an unending interlude gone wrong lol. Ok...on to comment on review, though I think I told you everything in e-mail. Hah, I love your comments on Allen being blasted by Dryden. Dryden's such a fun character, but he's hard to write. I've never quite been able to peg him. And Viole gets along with everyone... maybe even Allen, of Allen gave him half a chance. After all, Dilandau finds Viole amusing, and Allen will find that he and Dilandau have a lot in common. Haha...no Viole/Miguel, but there is a DillyVan. One-shot :). Hehehe, Dilandau's epiphany of his discussion with Van at breakfast... will use that ;). Yes Dilandau is going to tease Folken about Marie for the rest of his life ;). Lol! Maybe his revenge will have something to do with it too. ;). Hmm...Folken giving love advice. That would be funny. No offense to Folken, but he'd probably ask Van questions. Well, as I said, I'm anxious for your comments. Tell me it's not as bad as I think, or blast me to pieces, I don't mind. Either way Chapter 24 is the big chapter :). Thanks for your wonderful feedback. Love ya chic! Take care!

Squizles: Hahah, well thank you for the long review. I'm honored for it to be the longest you've ever written. Author's love long reviews ;). I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. Miguel/Viole scenes are always fun or interesting or both for me. Guimel and Dallet are fun too, I can't wait to do their one shot :). Take care girl and thanks for reviewing.


	26. OneShot 2: If I Didn't Know Better

THIS IS NOT THE CHAPTER. I posted thenew chapter and one-shot simultaneously. If you haven't read the new chapter and would like to do so, please click on the previous :). Sorry for the confusion.

This is Van and Dilandau's "date." It doesn't have to be read to understand the next chapter, but it's fun :). Hope you do read and enjoy it :).

Reviewer Responses:

Haruko: Lol, I kinda don't want to consider the one-shots as chapter because they only focus on certain characters. I'm glad that you thought that last one was well rounded enough to be a chapter. Yes, Miguel has gained some respect, but don't worry, you'll still get some laughs at his expense ;). Oh man, Allen playing spoons. He'd probably be the roughest player there. It's always the pretty ones ;). Thanks for reviewing girl; glad you liked The Chill Factor.

EbonysDove: Hehehe I've never heard anyone describe the playing of Spoons as cute no matter who's playing lol. You know I'll throw in more Miguel/ Viole moments in future chapters. I love those two ;). Hope you enjoyed Chapter 23 (Blah) and I hope you like the new one shot ;)

S.P. Vinter: Lol! You know who I'd love to see play Spoons? Folken. With that metal hand, he'd be pretty intimidating lol. Glad you liked it girl and I hope you like Van and Dilandau's date ;). Take care!

Pocketfirefairy: Hah! Miguel just may frame his spoon ;). Thanks for reviewing girl!

Jhaylin: Counting cards is a good poker strategy but I guarantee if you sat down to play any gambling game and it got out that you could count cards, no one would want to play with you lol. It is technically considered cheating. :) Glad you liked the one-shot :). Take care and I hope you like the "date."

Omnipotent Pyro: Hehehehhe, hey Miguel can now appreciate the guys on his tail for he now knows the secret of making them back off. Act interested, lol. Glad you liked it, and yup, Dilandau plays a bunch if gambling card games ;). Miguel is insulted that you believe him being has to signal Apocalypse. Thanks for reviewing girl, hope you enjoy the "date."

Strangedream: Egyptian Rat Screw? How is that played? I've never heard of it. But I know Spoons is dangerous. I've seen Spoon battle wounds, lol. When I was in high school we used to play in the band hall and used whatever we could find for spoons, so we're talking sharpened pencils, protractors, screws, etc lol. Imagine those sharp "spoons" and acrazed, bored band children dead set on winning lol. We saw blood... often lol. And then it was banned :(. Lol I'm glad you enjoyed it, and you'll have to send me the details of Rat Screw :). Thanks for reviewing

GlassAngel1: Hey chic, glad you liked The Chill Factor. I hope you enjoy Dilandau and Van's "date" lol. Learning to chill is a good lesson, hopefully Miguel will remember and keep being able to apply it to daily life ;). Thanks for reviewing!

Skippys Cat: So happy The Chill Factor could cheer you up. I really hope you like "If I didn't know better..." lol. I teased you enough about it. I hope it measures up to what I built it up to be ;). Thank you for reviewing– everything lol! Take care chic.

* * *

One Shot #2: If I didn't know better...

The fabric was softer than silk and poured over his skin like running water, cool and smooth. It shimmered as Dilandau turned, admiring himself in the mirror. The silvery blue tunic suited him, playing up the hue of his hair and cream of his skin. Dilandau placed thin hands against the reflective surface, staring deeply into his garnet eyes.

The boy that gazed back at him didn't seem to be standing at Death's Door like he had been only a week earlier. The newly returned warrior still remained. His beauty was back, the fire that had been restored still burned, and the boy grinned boldly, proud once more.

Dilandau removed his hands, letting them fall to his sides and frowning. But the boy was being fooled, wasn't he?

He thought he'd evaded Lady Death only to find that she would be waiting for him at his own Door.

"Dilandau, how's it look?"

Dilandau started, turning as if expecting to see Van right behind him. A thick velvet drape separated Dilandau from onlookers. He made sure it was pulled tight and the thick rope was securely fastened in its snap to hold it shut.

"Give me a minute; I'm deciding," Dilandau called back.

I should get it.

It was a nice shirt after all, and he hadn't had anything new in a while. He'd had no desire to have anything new. What was the point?

Hell, what was the point now?

Running the fabric between his thumb and forefinger, Dilandau hummed lightly, calming himself. After all, he hadn't come out with Van for this– to think. He'd wanted to have fun, get away from his men, and... pretend to forget why he felt trapped by the people who loved him most.

Dilandau had thought he was ready for Her, for Death; he'd prepared himself, but that was when he thought there was hope. He'd always had a trapdoor, a safety. He could escape Her, if needed. Folken only had to give him the key to remove the lock. Now he knew there was no key.

His safety was gone and sooner or later, Lady Death would come to see who was hovering on her "welcome" mat. And unlike before, when he could be tough and put up a strong front for his men, he was terrified. Looking into their concerned faces and seeing their heavy eyes only succeeded in unnerving him more. Dilandau wanted to run and never look back.

Gods...

He was scared and even more afraid to let it show. He couldn't appear weak, and if he stayed too near anyone too close to his situation, he'd crack, peel, and bleed rivers of salt on the poor soul unlucky enough to be present.

"You need help? Let me see. I can tell you if it looks good or not."

Dilandau shook himself, releasing the shirt tail and whirling to face the mirror again. Large ruby eyes, dark and dilated, peered at him from a tight, rigid face. Where was the beautiful one he'd glimpsed earlier?– the proud Dilandau?– the fearless warrior?

Had he died already?– So soon?

Dilandau shut his eyes, resting his hands on the small of his back and stretching until he heard a pop and felt the tension in his spine ease. He sighed in faint pleasure, taking a slow, deep breath and relishing the sweet scent of the floral incense burning in the shop.

Here he was in a nice shop, wearing a marvelous shirt made of a fabric he'd never had the pleasure of trying on before, on a cool night with company that hadn't a clue in the world as to what was going on inside Dilandau. There was no terror to feed off of, no worriers to fret over, and...

He felt...

Dilandau opened his eyes to smirk at the fire that greeted him again.

There you are.

... free.

Dilandau pulled the rope and drew the curtain back to reveal Van, standing there with a garment draped over one arm, staring at Dilandau first shocked at his sudden appearance and then appreciative? Hmm... had he read that one right?

Van smiled. "It looks great."

I know.

"You think so?" Dilandau pretended to fret and turned this way and that, gaining the attention of the tiny, female shop clerk who waltzed over, cooing and purring at Dilandau's modeling.

"Yeah, you should get it," Van said, he shook out a dark purple shirt and held it before Dilandau. "I think this one would look good on you too."

Dilandau raised a brow at the shirt then at Van. "I thought _you_ needed a shirt? It certainly seems like we've only been shopping for me."

Van's cheeks stained pink and he looked a bit guilty.

What was it with this guy? Half the time Dilandau wanted to believe the king was afraid of him, but he always went out his way to get Dilandau's attention. He liked Van ok; he could be fun, and he was always amusing, but Dilandau always had to wonder what was going on behind those big brown eyes.

The boy king whose country Dilandau's men had razed to the ground, the man that had been incensed enough to attempt to slaughter him in his sleep, the guy that had marred his face– well, maybe mar was too strong a word to describe the thin scar barely visible on the side of face– was trying to be his best friend. Van had been the first to shake his hand and agree to a truce and had been falling all over himself to set an example for other former enemies of the Slayers to follow ever since.

"Well... I have so many clothes to tell you the truth I forget which ones I've worn and which I haven't. I just thought... well, you liked that shirt I lent you so well and I did say I would take you..."

Spit it out, man. I don't want to stand here all night. Dilandau didn't roll his eyes. Good boy. He took the royal lavender tunic and held it at arms length; it was sleeveless, contrasting with the long gauntlets of the silver shirt and the style of shirts he'd been wearing in the palace.

He frowned at it.

"You've got great arm muscles. I think you should show them." Van shrugged. "My arms are too skinny for things like that."

"You used to wear that short sleeved thing all the time," Dilandau dismissed the purple shirt, handing it over to the saleswoman. All of Folken and Marie's poking and prodding had left ugly little marks on his arms that were slow to heal. "What happened to that delightful little number? Burn it?"

Van snorted to Dilandau's surprise, a grin lighting his features. "My friend, Merle, uses it to sleep in now. It was pretty ragged, not really suitable attire for a king."

Dilandau had to agree. "I'll just get this one... and maybe..." A thought struck him then and he patted his pockets. "Well shit."

"What?" Van asked.

His money pouch was in his room, sitting on his dresser. Of course he wouldn't have it on his person; he hadn't expected to go anywhere after his flight.

Dilandau sighed, slightly embarrassed to have to admit to being penniless for the night and patted the light material of the tunic he wore regretfully. Time to say goodbye...

"All my money's at the castle. I didn't even think about it. Guess we'll have to cut the evening short, huh?" Damn, and he'd been interested to know how the night would turn out.

Van clapped a hand on Dilandau's shoulder as he turned to go back into the dressing room and remove the shirt. "Hey, _I_ invited _you_ out didn't I? It's only fair that I should treat."

Treat? Dilandau blinked. "You mean, you'd buy this for me?"

"Yeah, that and other things." Van shrugged easily under Dilandau's gaze. "Money's no object to me. I am a king and what I don't have in currency can be put on royal credit. Get what you want. Don't worry about it."

Dilandau placed a hand under his chin to keep his mouth from falling agape. "You... intend to pay for me? All night? Really?"

Van nodded. "Mmhm."

Dilandau stared, tongue licking the inside of his cheeks and backs of his teeth as he sized Van up. "Careful Van, people are going to think we're on a date."

Something flared in those cinnamon eyes at the statement and once again, Van's cheeks were abloom with pink roses. "Ah... let them say what they want." Van scratched the back of his dark head. "Friends do stuff like this for friends, right? You'd pay for me, and I... feel like being nice tonight. I wanna have fun and going back right now isn't part of the plan."

Dilandau smirked. Van was being bold and adventurous, and Dilandau really liked this side of him. Intriguing, indeed.

Trying his luck, Dilandau rubbed his chin. "Let it be known to you now, Van Fanel, that I'm not a cheap date, so if you're serious, we're not going back to the castle for a while. How do you feel about cloaks? I saw a nice cart a ways back. I want to get something for Folken to replace that rag he's been wearing. I know he says it's new, but that I swear that man does something to every article of clothing he owns to make it look old and boring!"

Van blinked, and Dilandau kept going. "Let me get out of this and have it wrapped up. You sure you didn't want anything for you?"

Van shook his head, watching the whirlwind that was Dilandau as he vanished behind the dressing curtain again, stripping and redressing in his original outfit. Hey, maybe he should get some pants too. He needed to be measured again. Dilandau had probably lost a good ten pounds since his last fitting.

"Hey Van, know any good places for casual pants?"

"Not really, but we've got all night to find one."

* * *

Van reclined in a plush arm chair watching Dilandau roaming the confines of the bookstore they'd discovered. Van had never seen so many books crammed into a such a small place in his life. The books were wall to wall, floor to ceiling and Dilandau was currently up on a ladder surfing the high shelves and occasionally calling on Van for a push to the next row.

Van was just fine sitting with the bags while Dilandau hunted. He was tired. Carrying several bags of clothing, boots, and a blade maintenance kit while fighting crowds and keeping pace with Dilandau in the fancy boots he wore was unanticipated exercise. Van really should have made Dilandau carry more, but then Dilandau wouldn't have been able to dart out in front of him, pulling and pointing as freely as he did. Van was charmed by it and wouldn't trade Dilandau tugging on his sleeves for anything in the world.

Well... there were certain things he would trade for, but they all involved Dilandau too at that point. "I think your friend plans to buy my store, Your Majesty," the older man that ran the store chuckled, coming to stand beside Van.

Van winced; he really hated being addressed so formally, but he truly needed to use his status to cover Dilandau's expensive tastes. Dilandau hadn't exaggerated in the least about not being cheap. Van had run out of currency stores and carts ago. It wouldn't have been so bad if Dilandau was only buying for himself, but he wasn't. He bought cloaks for Folken, slacks for Miguel, maintenance kits for Guimel, exotic sweets for Dallet, an antique abacus for Shesta, cards for Gatty...

"Viole would love this..." Van jumped as Dilandau was suddenly in front of him, shoving an open art book in his face, displaying various shading techniques. Van laughed softly. "Put it in the pile."

Van counted about 10 leather bound books stacked neatly on the sales counter. Shaking his head, he sighed. They'd have to have them boxed up and delivered to the castle in the morning. "Dilandau, you don't have to find everything you want tonight. We can always come back. Leave yourself something new to uncover for next time."

Heh... Van had just inadvertently asked Dilandau on a second date. Wouldn't Allen be proud?

Van paused at Dilandau's silence and gazed up at him. Dilandau had closed the art book, eyes seemingly captivated with its rich blue cover and gold lettering. "What is it?"

Every now and again Dilandau would have these short periods of what Van wanted to label as melancholy. If Van could only figure out what brought them on, he'd be careful to never mention it again.

Dilandau swallowed hard, lips twitching slightly as if he'd eaten something bitter. "Next time, huh?"

"Uh...yeah. I mean, we're having fun right? So I figure being out with me isn't so bad..." Van tried to read his expression. Dilandau wasn't getting bored with him, was he?

"It's not," Dilandau said softly. "It's different."

Different, but not bad.

Van could live with that. But then why did he look so... sad?

"Wow, I really did go a little overboard, didn't I?" Dilandau said, turning to look at the miniature book tower he'd created. "I should probably put some of them back."

"Hey, no way. Not if you want them," Van argued. I saw your face when you chose those books. I hope you'll look at me like that one day.

Dilandau shrugged, not facing Van. "I don't think I have time to read all of them."

"You'll make time, Dilandau. People who really love to read always do," Van assured him, a bit unnerved by Dilandau's solemn tone and phrasing. He didn't say: I don't think I _will_ have the time... he said: I don't think I have time. Just how much work was Folken piling on Dilandau to where he'd think something as bleak as that had sounded?

"Hm," Dilandau hummed, suddenly smiling and focusing vibrant eyes on Van. "Lets get out of here, Fanelia. We passed something out there I've always wanted to do."

Van's heart skipped a beat at the way Dilandau was looking at him, like he'd found something special. "Uh...yeah... whatever you want to do. You're more interesting than I am, but... What about your books?"

Dilandau waved him off, patting the art book he held. "This is the only one I need. Lets pay for it and be on our way. I don't know how many customers the ink parlor takes a night, and I want to get in."

Ink parlor? Tattoos?

Van contained the apprehensive squeak that wanted to seep out. "I...ink parlor?"

He slung multiple shopping bags over his shoulders and trailed after Dilandau to the checkout counter. Dilandau slapped his book down on the wooden desk, grinning at the sales clerk and gazing at Van in amusement. "Oh come on Van, you're been so much fun tonight, don't wimp out on me now and change my new grandiose opinion of you."

I'm fun? Grandiose opinion... new?

Don't blush, idiot! Laugh it off... laugh. Van chuckled nervously. Dammit, he sounded constipated. "Uh no, I'm not afraid of a little tattoo. I'm just... surprised you'd want to get one. I mean, you've got such great skin. If mine looked like yours, I wouldn't want to mess it up."

Eep! What am I saying? I sound like a stuttering jackass.

Dilandau made a strange face, resting both hands under his chin as he leaned on the counter. The man behind the counter winked at Van, stifling a chuckle and pushing Dilandau's purchase at him. "Coins or credit?"

"Credit. King's credit," Van said, now feeling very uncomfortable with the way the old man was smirking at him.

"Ah, all right. You might have said something; I wouldn't have even rung your... friend... up if I had known you were covering his expenses for the night."

What the hell was the old guy finding so amusing?

"Of course he's covering the expenses; he invited me out, meaning I'm his date tonight," Dilandau said, voice lowering and taking on a seductive purr that sent a shiver up Van's spine.

Get a grip. He's just teasing; he's been teasing all night.

"Oh." A chuckle from the man. "I never figured you to be a two man kind of monarch, Your Highness. Um... what happened to that other young man you were...ah... courting a few days ago?"

So that was it! Van could have decked that old man right there, if Dilandau hadn't laughed, really laughed.

The silver god latched onto Van's shoulder, giggling helplessly. "That's King Van alright, a real man's man..."

"Dilandau..." Van hissed, trying to sound menacing but failing. He liked Dilandau's light weight and pleasant warmth on his shoulders.

"Can we have this sent to the palace in the morning?" Dilandau continued, pretending to be unaware of Van's complaint.

"Sure thing, anything for a...friend...of a king," the man winked, shooting Van another sly smile and shaking his head. "Stay out of trouble, Your Majesty, and I thank you for your business. You didn't want the rest of the books?"

Dilandau shook his head. "It's ok."

The sales man smiled. "Well... have a good night then."

With another little wink, the man waved, and Van quickly guided Dilandau, who still hovered near his shoulder snickering, to the door.

Stupid old man.

He was going to spread more rumors... But would Van really mind hearing the new stories about he and Dilandau?

Nah.

Dilandau had straightened up and had Van by the sleeve yet again, pulling him through a group of people gathered around a booth featuring a puppet show.

"The ink parlor was over here, I think..."

Van stumbled, and Dilandau beamed at him over his shoulder. "Don't worry, Van, I'll hold your hand."

Really?

Where was that parlor again?– and why hadn't they gone there first?

* * *

The small of his back was sore and sensitive. He was told it was one of the most painful places to get a tattoo, but it was also one of the few places Folken didn't look at regularly. The man would have kittens, when he saw what Dilandau had done. "You like it?"

Dilandau was trying his hardest to get a good look at the "sword with coiling serpent" he'd had etched into his back. The back room of the tiny parlor had mirrors on the walls and ceilings, an attempt to let the customer view the work without straining themselves.

Van stood beside him, holding his shirt folded above the artwork. The king looked impressed.

"It looks really good, Dilandau, and just wait until it heals. It'll be beautiful."

Dilandau froze at that. Wait until it heals. Damn. That could take a while...

He moved away from Van, letting his shirt fall back over his pale back and patting the area with a wince. That was going to be uncomfortable for a while, but Dilandau was used to pain.

"Your turn?" Dilandau raised a teasing brow at Van. The king had looked positively ill as he watched Gabriel, the slim artist sporting much of his own colorful artwork himself, work on Dilandau.

Dilandau had been quite content to lie on his stomach, flipping through a showy pamphlet of other possible tattoos to consider. He felt tiny pricks and slight pressure in the area Gabriel slaved over, but nothing more. Dilandau did frown at the occasional dropped towel stained with his blood.

He'd forgotten about his bleeding problem, and he hoped since Gabriel was barely going under the surface layer of skin that it wouldn't be that bad.

"Ah..." there went that nervous titter again. "Well... I guess... But maybe just a little one, you know? Somewhere less..."

Dilandau snorted, rolling his eyes at Van. "You don't have to do anything you don't want. Honestly Van, peer pressure can be an ugly thing, and I'd strongly advise you against falling prey to it."

"But I don't want to be a stick in the mud..."

"We're talking about permanent alteration of your body here," Dilandau said, twisting his back and testing his mobility. Very good.

Van sputtered. "Aren't you being a bit dramatic? It'll be little..."

"Yeah," Dilandau said, pushing past Van to pull the thin curtain separating the tiny viewing room from the main parlor, "and when you wake up in the morning and decide you hate it, I don't want you blaming me for it. I'd rather someone like you get something...washable."

"A washable tattoo?" Van snorted to Dilandau's delight. The king was showing obstinance; he liked it. "There's a such thing? You're not talking about watercolor, are you?"

Dilandau leaned into the papery curtain, scrunching up his nose at its pungent odor. Though Gabriel tried to burn incense, sweet oils, and candles, the place still reeked of paint and alcohol.

The walls were splattered with random collages of dark purples and blues that collided and dribbled into one another, becoming a grand collection of chaos. Dilandau wanted to make his room in the castle look like this; even after Van complained of it making him seasick.

Old, overstuffed chairs and sofas hugged corners and slouched against the walls, giving the small shop a rather homey feel, if one could ignore the stools and reclining chair in the center of the room sitting near trays of assorted paints and sharps. Dilandau really couldn't figure out why he wasn't scared out of his mind.

Perhaps he'd gotten used to needles.

"It's a type of dye Van, completely harmless, painless, and looks very cool. Best thing about it is: if the artist screws up, in a few weeks it'll fade." Dilandau ghosted fingers over the cool fabric of his shirt just over his lower back. The dull sting of fresh pain assured him that nothing he'd had done was going anywhere.

"And it looks like a real tattoo?" Van questioned. "Like yours?"

"It can," Dilandau shrugged. "Depends on how you want it done and who does it."

Gabriel was lounging on his work chair, twiddling a half empty tube of black paint between ink stained fingers. He was a young man, maybe 23, with long black hair and eyes to match. He wore tattered denims and a form fitting sleeveless top, displaying tattoos like whores displayed cleavage.

"Like it or you want more work done?" Gabriel looked up at them as they approached.

"It looks good. I like it," Dilandau said then he grabbed Van's arm, pushing him forward. "My friend here wants a dye job; you do that?"

Gabriel's thin lips twisted into a brief smirk, before he soberly responded. "Yes, I do. I charge a little more, because of the mess it makes, but what's cost to royalty?"

Dilandau blinked at the man, not amused in the least. "Are you any good at it? I've seen jobs gone wrong and Lord Van doesn't want trash on his body for three weeks."

Gabriel's tan skin flushed and he narrowed his eyes at Dilandau slightly. "You got a real attitude for a such a pretty boy, you know? When you first came in here, I thought you were gonna be one of those fluffy pansies that request...dye jobs."

Dilandau did spare the man a chuckle then as he eyed Van. "This guy's not afraid to leap out on a battlefield and let poorly trained enemy soldiers take stabs at spilling his entrails, but he's absolutely petrified at donating his body to art under the hands of a skilled professional."

Gabriel's thin brows rose in interest; he tilted his head, studying both Van and Dilandau, long hair falling over one shoulder. "The King of Fanelia and his flying dragon... that's you, and you... have to be the evil Zaibach warlord turned good."

Dilandau frowned. Evil? He wasn't sure he liked that description.

"Hah, they described you to a 't,' white as a ghost, red eyes, skinny... but they left out the part about you being..."

"Pretty?" Dilandau batted his lashes.

Gabriel dimpled. "Guess it's something you have to see for yourself and pass judgment on. Don't think anyone could have done you more justice than to just have you standing there, kid."

"Hm." He wouldn't argue. "So about Van..."

"What about him?" Gabriel's dark eyes followed Dilandau as he crept closer, leaning on the recliner Gabriel sprawled on with his elbows and peering at the man.

"Will you ink him?"

"I don't know. I don't really like to break into that stuff this late in the day. Maybe if you came back tomorrow..." onyx eyes shined through spidery dark lashes.

Is he flirting with me? Dilandau wondered in amusement. He wanted to laugh. As unattractive as he'd been finding himself as of late, it was nice to know on a good day, he could still make a person take notice.

Should I milk this?

"Tomorrow..." Dilandau pouted, tipping his head forward a bit so his hair fell into his eyes. "But we may not be able to come back tomorrow. We're busy people. How's about you make an exception... for me."

Gabriel flashed a dazzling white smile. "For you, huh?" He was biting. The man straightened up in his chair, bringing his face closer to Dilandau's. "Now that's tempting."

There was a funny choking noise coming from behind Dilandau and he lost focus on the spell he was casting to look back at Van. The boy king looked... strange. His face was pink and he seemed to be flustered about something.

"Are you all right?"

Gabriel gave a light groan, and Dilandau felt him moving away.

"I don't need a tattoo or ink or whatever. You're right. Lets just go." Van looked to their bags... or rather Dilandau's bags... in one corner of the room, near the black glass door.

"Ah Van, don't be such a spoil sport. Live a little. I have an idea." Dilandau reached out and snagged Van by the hand, pulling him to the chair beside him. "Gabe," Dilandau scratched his chin, "since you don't like to do dye, maybe you could let me do it. I'll clean up any mess I make, and... uh... we'll pay you like you did it for the use of your tools."

Van gave a small shudder and Dilandau frowned at him. "Unless you don't trust me, Van. I've never drawn on anything outside of paper, but I don't think I'd do too horribly."

Suddenly he really wanted to try this. If Van wouldn't let him, he'd purchase supplies of his own and test it out on Viole... or better yet, Folken. He chuckled to himself, imagining a slumbering Folken waking up to find "I love Marie," across his cheeks that couldn't be washed off for a month with a tiny side note under his chin, "Sprinklers, baby!"

"Let me do it, huh, Van," Dilandau squeezed Van's hand then turned back to Gabriel, who was scowling at Van. Three's a crowd, his eyes practically shouted.

"You can use whatever tools of mine want, milord," Gabriel said, brushing a hand over one of Dilandau's arms. "My house is yours."

Dilandau glanced over his shoulder at Gabriel's inviting smile and winked at him. "You hear that, Van?– his house is mine, and you're comfortable with me right?"

Van stared, swallowing hard . His palm was warm and sweaty and Dilandau was happy to let it go after Van nodded.

He nodded? "Is that a yes?"

Another nod.

Dilandau laughed, clapping his hands together in excitement. A living art project. Viole would be so jealous. He ushered Van to the chair Gabriel was vacating, grumbling about supplies and mixing pastes.

"Don't worry Van," Dilandau patted the monarch's tense shoulders. "I am going to make it good. Now... off with the shirt."

* * *

Van spent the best few hours of his life flat on his back, letting Dilandau paint on his bare chest. He could have died right then a happy man. Something... something that Van could only describe as amazing came over Dilandau's face when he sketched and shaded, something unlike anything he'd ever seen on him before. Van tried not to stare noticeably at the pale deity, whose eyes glittered like jewels and pink tongue caressed a full lower lip every few moments. Van had no idea what Dilandau was painting, but the emotions that came over his face as he added each new coat captivated him.

Dilandau didn't speak and nothing distracted him but Gabriel occasionally passing him a new paintbrush or telling him not to let the paste get too thick. Van closed his eyes, heart beating rapidly as Dilandau leaned over him, almond-scented, silver hair tickling Van's nose as he blew on Van's chest.

"All done, Van," he purred lightly, pretty fingers sliding over his work area. Van nearly gasped when Dilandau's thumb brushed a nipple. He's trying to kill me... He has to know what he's doing to me!

"It's... it's dry already?" Van's voice had croaked and he cleared his throat, praying the heat he felt creeping into his cheeks wasn't showing. The paste-like dye had felt wet going on, and Van was only just realizing that he no longer felt the cool sensation of dampness on his torso.

"Yeah," Dilandau grinned, eyes on Van's chest. "It dries quick. Almost messed me up a few times when I tried to blend, but Gabe saved me."

Gabriel. Van's eyes darted around for the man to find him standing at Dilandau's side, also staring at Van's torso.

"It's beautiful," Gabriel said. "What is it of? I don't think I've ever seen this place before."

Dilandau shrugged, frowning slightly as if deep in though. "Just something...out of a dream... I guess. No place I really know. You want to go look at it, Van?"

Of course he did! He wanted to look at anything Dilandau did to his body. The silver haired boy could have played tic-tac-toe on his chest, and Van would have been content. He sat up carefully, afraid to crease the paint.

"You don't have to be so cautious; it's fine," Dilandau said, grabbing his hands and pulling him up. Van wobbled a bit as he landed on his feet, disoriented from being on his back for so long.

He looked down at his chest, getting an upside down view of the work and Dilandau smacked him. "Go look at it for the first time in a mirror, Van!"

Van started at that, eyes widening. Dilandau laughed at him, shoving him toward the back room and turning to Gabriel who was speaking to him again. Van narrowed his eyes, but found some of the prior jealousy he'd been feeling at the attention Gabriel had been giving Dilandau fading. Dilandau still commanded Gabriel's full cognizance, but for a different reason now. Gabriel was no longer staring at Dilandau with lust, but with respect.

From one artist to another, Van guessed.

Van drew the curtain to the viewing room and stepped inside, turning to stare at his body in full and going slack with awe. Dilandau had planted a field on his chest. A large grassy plain sparsely populated with tall trees and wild flowers was depicted and off in the distance was a noble house with a gate and winding porch. A wind blew across the field swaying the long grass and golden flowers, rustling the leaves of the trees and stirring the... the roses of the bushes around the house.

Van squinted... yes, those were roses.

How did Dilandau manage to get such detail in on such a small space in only a few hours?

Van heard footsteps behind him and he peeled his eyes off his torso to glimpse Dilandau in the mirror. "Do you like it? If you don't... well, your shirts cover it anyway, and it'll be gone before you know it."

No... Van didn't want it to fade any time soon.

"It's... incredible," Van couldn't help but whisper. "I didn't know... How did you do this? I mean, you made my chest look like something that should be hung on a wall!"

Dilandau grinned, scratching the back of his head shyly. Dear god, had Van actually managed to embarrass Dilandau?

Score one for me!

"It's not that good," Dilandau said. "But... thanks. I'm glad you like it."

Not that good? "Dilandau, this is amazing! I don't want to put my shirt over it."

"The King of Fanelia cannot walk around with his shirt off, Van," Dilandau said with a snort. "But..."

"But?" Van raised a brow.

"You don't have to button it up all the way... if you don't want," Dilandau shrugged; the corners of his mouth twitched into a short smile. "Gabe says we don't have to pay him anything, if I promise to come back and draw with him from time to time, so we can go as soon as you put some clothes on."

Van yelped as Dilandau produced his shirt from the thin air behind his back and tossed it at his face. He caught it in one hand and shrugged into it, undoing the top few buttons to reveal the tops of a few trees.

He walked to Dilandau who still stood behind him, lounging against a mirror and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I really like it, Dilandau, and next time we come here... I want a real one... of this."

Dilandau's lashes fluttered as he blinked rapidly, and wide eyes stared at Van. "Van, I can't..."

"You can sketch it and shade it again to give Gabriel a guide to follow," Van said seriously. "You and he could clean up in here together. You draw; he makes it permanent."

"I'm not that good."

"The hell you aren't," Van said, squeezing the shoulder he still held and letting his hand slide down Dilandau's arm. Gripping the slim muscle there and liking the feel, Van said, "You're the best artist that's ever had the pleasure of drawing on me. Stop being so modest about this, when you certainly aren't modest about anything else. You're good."

Van could have melted in Dilandau's warm smile or sugary laughter. "Well, if you insist, Your Majesty. What royalty says goes around here, doesn't it?"

Van rolled his eyes, gathering up the nerve to punch Dilandau playfully in the shoulder and step back. "Where to now?"

Dilandau cracked his knuckles. "I suppose we should find dinner. I could feel your stomach growling out there, and if I don't eat, your mother bear of big brother will nag me about it tomorrow."

Van flinched. Mother bear of a big brother huh? Only to Dilandau.

"All of the nice places are probably closed though..." Van sighed. He'd wanted to take Dilandau to a café he'd seen on the boardwalk. They served fresh fruit salads, hot bread, and baked meats so that the smell of them would be mild.

"Who wants to go to a nice place, man?" Dilandau stretched his arms and twisted his back again with a slight wince as the skin pulled around his tattoo. "I want ale, and... maybe a good game of Black Jack. There are a few taverns Guimel and Dallet frequent that have always sounded like fun to me. Lets go, Van. A few beers would be a great note to end on tonight."

A few beers... with you?

"Ok, sure. Why not? At least there, they won't care if I undo a few more buttons of this shirt."

* * *

Van had one beer that he ended letting Dilandau finish. He really wasn't much of a drinker at all, and he'd felt a little out of place among the rowdy men, some of them he knew from Allen's team or had seen around the palace, soldiers in general.

Dilandau, surprisingly, fit right in. He was greeted by the title of "Silver Boss," and readily invited to join in on the card game being played in the back of the room. Dilandau had tugged on Van's shirt sleeves, dragging him to the smoky area where men crowded, grunting and shouting obscenities. The group parted to make room for Dilandau and Van, and Dilandau straddled a wooden chair backward in front of a rickety, round wood table littered with paper money, coins, fine trinkets, cigars, and even some precious stones.

"What are we playing?" Dilandau had asked.

"Spades," was the answer given and after that, Van was lost in the events and conversations that transpired. He found a seat slightly behind Dilandau and sat transfixed with Dilandau's cool demeanor as he was dealt into the game and played his cards confidently.

A tray with two large mugs of beer and a loaf of brown bread and wedge of yellow cheese was brought to them and handed to Van. Van sliced himself a piece of bread and cheese, astounded at how tasty the combination was. He was afraid he'd eaten more than his fair share before the evening was up, but Dilandau was such a light eater that Van could have eaten much more.

How could someone live off of so little?

Between games, Dilandau would take bits of bread and no cheese, nibbling slowly as if forcing himself to do so.

"Did you want to play, Van? I feel bad to have you just sitting there," Dilandau said, tossing back the last of Van's beer and wiping his mouth on his sleeve in the most dignified of undignified manners.

Van floundered. "I don't know how to play..." And quite frankly, I'm afraid to after watching. Some of the men around the table looked positively evil now that most of them had lost their possessions. "No thank you. I like watching you."

Dilandau stared at him in the oddest way, a look that was becoming quite common to Van. Dilandau probably thought he was nuts, but Van didn't care. As long as Dilandau was having a good time and getting to do what he wanted.

"Well... watch me win this hand, and then if you don't want to play, I think we'd better get going. I..."

You...?

"I should have told some people where I was going tonight, and I didn't. I didn't want them following me, but I also don't want to scare them. I keep... doing that and not thinking about it until... well, times like now, when it's too late to do anything about it."

Van frowned. Was Dilandau talking about his Slayers? He didn't want them to come? He wanted to be alone with Van?

Van grinned. "Well, if it's too late, why hurry back?"

Dilandau sighed, setting down a hunk of bread he'd broken off. "You don't understand."

Van's heart plummeted. "I didn't mean..."

"No," Dilandau interrupted him. "It's ok. I_ like_ that you don't understand. It's why I came with you, but... I'm starting to feel guilty. I really want to go home after this."

Van couldn't decide whether to be elated or depressed. On one hand, Dilandau liked something about him and it encouraged him to do things with Van... on the other hand, the very thing Dilandau claimed to like was what was shutting Van out of truly knowing the other boy.

All night... he thought... all night, Dilandau still hadn't said a word about himself. Van knew as much as he had before, only with deeper meaning. He had known Dilandau was an artist, now he knew of Dilandau's art. He had known Dilandau was adventurous, spontaneous, witty... now he was versed in it; he had experience with it. He could truly be a real friend, but still not a close one.

Dilandau hadn't let him in.

But... maybe opening doors was for the second date.

"All right then. Win this hand, and I'll walk you home." Van winked and his heart fluttered at Dilandau's light titter.

"You see all your dates to the door?" Dilandau purred, clouds lifted. Van ignored the attention they were receiving from the men around them. Dilandau didn't seem to care so why should he?

"Only ones that look like you." Van passed the piece of bread Dilandau had set back on the plate to him and grinned when Dilandau took it, holding it loosely between his fingers like a cigar.

"Flattery will get you everywhere."

* * *

They left the bar a few hours later, Dilandau's pockets heavy with coins and lined with currency. "Did you see the tears in Reeden's eyes when he thought he lost his watch?"

Van chuckled. "He shouldn't have gambled something he didn't want to part with."

Dilandau shook his head. Poor, little innocent Van. "You're missing key the point of gambling. You're taking a risk. If you put up something you can part with, what's the thrill in winning and protecting your own prized possession and gaining someone else's as well. Hell, it takes the thrill out of winning, if you know the loser didn't really want what he put on the table."

"You gave it back," Van pointed out.

Dilandau shrugged. "What do I need with a watch?"

"You don't have one."

"Don't need one. Who wants to be able to see the minutes and hours pass by every time they look at their wrist. I'd rather... experience it for myself." Dilandau reached over to take a few of his purchases from Van. He felt kind of bad for letting the king carry it all, but Van hadn't complained and Dilandau really hadn't wanted to be bothered.

Maybe they won't be as pissed when they see I come bearing gifts... Dilandau chewed his lower lip nervously as he and Van neared the castle walls.

"Is something going on?" Van asked suddenly, halting Dilandau and squinting at the castle. Dilandau frowned.

The flags were raised and soft sounds of machinery, melefs being rolled into the courtyard, could be heard. The smell of sulphur and oil was becoming very distinct.

"They're getting ready for a battle," Dilandau breathed.

Damn.

He and Van stepped up their casual trot to a brisk walk, Dilandau feeling ridiculous for all of the baggage he was bringing in. "Drop the bags, Van."

"No way, not after all the time I spent watching you pick this stuff out," Van said. "We'll have someone take it to your room or mine, or wherever."

Dilandau chanced a glance over his shoulder at Van. The guy really was too nice to him, and Dilandau was starting to think that maybe he should return the kindness.

"It's Lord Van and he's got Lord Dilandau with him!"

A lookout was perched on the walkway of the palace walls. "Open the gates!"

Dilandau and Van stood, listening to the groans of the heavy doors being pulled open. "We look like women."

"Pretty women," Van shrugged.

"We really should have ditched the bags."

"Been shopping boys?" a random soldier called.

"Not a chance," Van elbowed him.

"We've been waiting for you," gray haired General Keller greeted them. "Lord Van, Sir Allen would see you in the small hangar, and Lord Dilandau, Lord Folken is waiting for you in his private rooms."

"What's going on?" Van asked.

"Zaibach's broken through the Eastern Border and are heading for the harbor. Sir Allen, his men, and yourself, Lord Van, are to be dispatched at dawn." The general then gazed at Dilandau, his light hazel eyes alight with a faint shimmer of hope. "And we could really use you and the expertise of your soldiers out there with us in the morning too, Lord Dilandau."

Dilandau raised a brow. A request for service? So, the Dragonslayers weren't already expected to be there. What did Folken want him for then?

"I'll see what Folken wants first, and I'll get back to you promptly afterward."

Keller nodded, patting his shoulder. "Leave those things here. I'll have someone take them up to your rooms."

"Just..." Van gazed at Dilandau, "Lord Dilandau's room. Thank you General."

Keller blinked. "Yes sir."

Dilandau set down the two bags he held and watched Van unload. They walked side by side into the castle, waving at the men and women that pretended not to stare at them as they passed.

"We sure are getting a lot of attention," Van said.

"They think you're cheating on Miguel," Dilandau said with a snicker.

"Forget Miguel."

Dilandau frowned at Van's whisper. Had he meant for Dilandau to hear that? Probably not– and what had he meant by it?

They came to a fork in their path, Van needing to veer toward the hangar and Dilandau to the stairs.

"Ah..." Van stuttered. Were they back to that again? Dilandau rolled his eyes and socked Van in the chest with a soft fist.

"Hey, thanks for a good time...er... lovely evening, kind sir. We'll have to go out again," Dilandau teased.

Van laughed, a rich sound that Dilandau was rather fond of. "I'd be honored."

There was a tiny gasp as a man servant quickly found somewhere else to be, his cheeks stained an unbecoming shade of pink.

Van ran a hand through his hair. "I better go report to Allen. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Yeah." Dilandau watched him go. "Hey Van?"

"Hm?" Van turned.

"My treat next time, ok?"

Van smiled. "Ok."

Dilandau felt his mouth curl in a weak echo of Van's bright smile then with a sigh headed for the main stairway.

Now to see what Folken wants.

He patted his lower back, grimacing at the dull burn of aggravated skin and thinking fondly of what it symbolized.

Fun, freedom, and permanence.

Dilandau really hadn't thanked Van enough, and he truly owed him something better than just the promise of a second outing.

Think, Dilandau, think hard on something to let Van know just what he gave you tonight and make sure he gets it... before you go.

Dilandau took the stairs by two's, ignoring the ache in his knees from being overworked. He reflected on his evening, thinking of Van and all the places that they had been and things they had done.

Hah, Dilandau chortled to himself. Hell, if he didn't know better, he would have thought he really was on date.

And maybe... maybe he didn't mind remembering it that way.

* * *

ONCE AGAIN IF ANYONE MISSED THE NOTE, THIS IS NOT THE CHAPTER. If you haven't read the chapter, please click on the previous. I posted the One-Shot andnew chapter at the same time.

The End

* * *

Author's Note: All done. What's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care? Let me know please! Thanks! 


	27. Chapter 24

Author's Note: Hey everyone. Yes, I am updating regularly again :). I want to finish this story before summer, and with the way things are going, I think I just might. I really must attribute the timeliness (lol) of this chapter to Skippyscat; who's been reading the story over my shoulder (figuratively) before I post it. Thanks Cat!

Here is the action chapter I promised. I hope you all enjoy it. Thank you for all of your reviews. The responses to the chapter reviews will be at the end of the chapter, and the responses to the one-shot reviews will appear at the top of the next one-shot. Thanks and enjoy!

Oh one warning...this chapter jumps around...a lot. Ok..on with the story:)

* * *

Chapter 24

"Dammit, Roxy get off me; I'm working!" Guimel shoved the chambermaid off more roughly than he'd intended and she gasped, swinging at him as she stumbled into the stone wall behind them. Guimel ducked her blow, glad she'd missed him; the girl had a mean right hook. The black eye Roxanne had given Sir Morgan's page was warning enough.

"What the hell's your problem tonight, Guy? Working's never stopped us before." Guimel rolled his eyes as the well-endowed girl laced her bodice while glaring his way and turned his eyes back the gates. He'd nicked a pair of Folken's binoculars the last time he'd been in the lab and they had come in very handy... not just for tonight.

"I'm on sentry, Roxanne. Meaning: I have to be alert at all times," Guimel sneered, as he smelled her strong perfume before he felt her inching closer to him. Wet lips against his neck made him cringe and spin away, glowering at her like she'd lost her mind.

She had!

"What the hell are you wearing? And what's with all the make up? You look like one of those men in drag on the corner of Beer Bub's."

Roxanne snorted, brushing a lock of brown hair off her forehead and leaning back against the stone rail of the balcony, peering down into the busy courtyard. "I would think that _you_ liked the drag look."

Guimel almost dropped the binoculars. "You look like a whore, dear; why would you think I'd like that?" He set the binoculars down and stepped over them to stand beside Roxanne. Using two fingers, he caught her chin and turned her face toward his. Her gray eyes were covered to the brow with blue powder and her lashes were soiled in black mascara, clumping together and leaving traces of black over her rogue tinged cheeks.

Guimel brought his thumb up to wipe away the red lipstick. "I like the natural look on you."

Roxy purred, smiling coyly and fighting his hold to bring their lips together, and Guimel had to shove her away again. "I'm working."

"You were working last night too."

By the gods... "Get away, woman! Go...wash your face or something and then I may reconsider your offer."

"Oh," Roxy snarled, reaching out to push him as well. "Jerk. You know, I didn't have to come out here. Someone told me you looked like you could use some cheering up and stupid me, I came running. What kind of fun are you looking for tonight, huh, Guy?"

"I'm not looking for fun; I'm looking for my friend. Now get lost before I toss you off this balcony. If anyone sees you up here, you know what they're going to think..."

"You never care what anyone thinks..."

"Tonight I do," Guimel growled. "I don't want any of my buddies thinking I'm up here playing around, when I said I would..."

"Plenty of people saw me coming up here, so they're going to think what they want regardless. Come on, Guy... are you gonna deny the mother of your child?"

The mother of my... "What the hell are you talking about?"

Roxy held her head high, hands on her narrow hips. "Well, what do you think happens when a man and a woman..."

"Roxy..." Stay calm; remain calm. Do not throw her off the balcony. "There is no way in hell I could be the father of your child. You're pregnant?"

He'd been with a pregnant girl? That was... disgusting.

"I've done it more times with you than anyone else this month and my monthly's off..."

"Roxanne... listen to me carefully." Guimel placed both hands on either of her shoulders. "You cannot get pregnant through the backdoor!"

He released her and smacked a palm to his forehead. Well, he certainly didn't choose em' for brains, but good gods and goddesses.

That was it. Staring at the clueless look on her face in annoyance, Guimel kindly took Roxy by the arm and escorted her to the door. He opened it and gave her a gentle push onto the stairs. "Go away; I'm locking this door."

"You're a stiff, Guimel– and– and Jon's better than you anyway!"

Guimel bolted the door, shaking his head on her final incensed cry. Good bye, Roxanne. Blah. Never again.

He walked back to his sentry position with a sigh, retrieving the binoculars and jumping up to take a seat on the rail. The stone was warm under the palm on his hand as it rested beside his knee and he frowned. The weather was perfect for cold beer and a walk on the beach with...

Eh... not her.

Guimel was one of the few people that was glad Lord Dilandau had gotten out of the palace and was enjoying the night. He only wished Lord Dilandau had asked him along and maybe Dallet too.

Guimel snorted; how much fun could Lord Dilandau really be having with Van? The boy was as bland as Dallet's cooking and dry as Miguel's jokes...

Speaking of which, Old Miguel hadn't looked too thrilled when he'd heard Lord Dilandau was out with his boyfriend. But Miguel should know if a person didn't tempt his quarry with a little bait every now and again, they'd find something prettier to look at. And Lord Dilandau was certainly very easy on the eye.

Poor kid attracted everything with eyes to see and legs to come closer and didn't know the half of what he had, nor what he was doing with it.

If they ever got an extended time off, Guimel and Dallet were gonna take Lord Dilandau out, show him the real town. Maybe they could sail up the coast to find new territory to prowl.

Maybe.

There sure were a lot of "maybes" as of late.

Maybe we'll stick together after the war. Maybe we'll become a band of pirates and raid the Gaean seas. Maybe Lord Dilandau doesn't need Folken and Marie to come up with a cure.

Maybe he can get better on his own.

That was what Guimel liked to think. The others were... annoying him, even Dallet. Dallet fell in with Gatty and Shesta, and Miguel and Viole– who the hell knew what they thought anyway? Odd balls.

Viole had said something about letting Lord Dilandau do whatever he wanted and standing behind him, but the mournful look on his face while he'd said it soured Guimel. Did no one else besides him think that maybe they should hold off on the memorial service until Lord Dilandau actually came to them and said, "Look guys. It's over."

Gatty had claimed Lord Dilandau was in denial and that no one was to talk to him about _it _or the meeting; it would upset him.

Damn right. It'd upset me too.

And now this: A battle in the morning, a supposedly angry Folken haunting the hallway they'd be given, lying in wait for Lord Dilandau when he returned, and Guimel out to mobilize the interception plan as soon as he saw Lord Dilandau.

Guimel had volunteered to be the lookout, despite the dubious looks from his friends who knew what he preferred to do when he was too eager to accept sentry duty.

I guess I should have cursed and grumbled about it, but then they may have actually agreed to give me a different assignment.

Guimel wanted to be the one to catch Lord Dilandau on his way up; he wanted Lord Dilandau to know that at least one of his men hadn't lost his mind yet. Besides, he couldn't see where he could be of any help anywhere else. Dallet was fine-tuning the Silvers and the Oreades. Gatty was with Lord Dryden and General Alloju keeping up to date on the latest information, and Shesta, Miguel, and Viole were with their students.

Guimel usually got in Dallet's way when he worked with the machinery, though Dally would never say anything. Gatty didn't need anyone with him when he played leader, and he wouldn't have appreciated Guimel's company anyway. And Shesta, Miguel, and Viole...

Guimel wasn't one for pep talks, especially not to kids he'd probably never see again.

A few might make it through... but who were they kidding? Those kids needed more training than what they'd gotten. Not even creme of the crop soldiers with experience could have learned all that those kids had in such a short period of time. Guimel was proud of them; the cadets were impressive, but still not ready.

Not in his opinion.

Action in the courtyard. Guimel directed the binoculars to the opening gate. Spinning the focus, Guimel closed in on Lord Dilandau and Van crossing the threshold, holding...shopping bags?

Guimel chuckled. Lord Dilandau had gotten lucky after all; look at all that loot. General Kellogg... Kelton?– Oh whatever!– the Wind Bag guy... jogged to them and was no doubt telling Lord Dilandau Folken wanted a word with him.

Guimel had seen enough. Looping the binoculars around his neck by a string, Guimel slid off the rail and strode to the door, feeling for the tiny pocket radio Dallet had given him.

"Hey, Guimel here, Lord Dilandau's back. I'm running interference now."

"Great. The captains down here are burning holes in my ass, looking over here every few minutes. I'll let Gatty know and he'll go to the others."

"Thanks Dally."

Hand held comm-links. Dallet never failed to astound him when it came to the things he could do with a few wires and machine guts.

Lets see... what route would Lord Dilandau take? Should Guimel try to head him off or just go to their wing and catch him at the door when he got there?

After computing all of the various paths Lord Dilandau could possibly take, Guimel decided to meet him near their rooms. Folken was waiting in his own room, so unless he had Pearce out keeping watch...

Aw shit, Pearce could very well be playing sentry elsewhere.

Creepy bastard.

Guimel quickened his steps, taking a back hallway and running up two flights of stairs to skid into the Dragonslayer corridor. Keen blues eyes scanned the dark territory. Seemed like no one was home, but looks were deceiving.

"Guimel!"

Guimel jumped as a small boned hand gripped his elbow. He cringed, gritting his teeth as he turned to find Sheila glaring up at him.

Sheila, one of the breakfast cooks whom he'd neglected to tell it was over and that he was seeing Roxanne...who was claiming he was the father of her bastard...

Ai.

"Not a good time, Sheila. I'll... get down on my knees and apologize later. Please don't poison my food until then."

Note to self, do not eat any breakfast that you didn't kill, gather, or cook yourself.

Next time someone tells me a woman's no good, I'll listen.

Sheila sneered, her usually pretty face taking on an ugly light. "Later huh? Later was a few weeks ago, Guimel. What's this about you running around with that floozy Roxanne? You dumped me for her and couldn't tell me? I ought to rip your balls..."

Guimel gasped at the thought and covered her mouth with his hand. "Look, it's not like that, ok? I can explain...later. I'm working."

"Working's never stopped you before! I should have known better than to get involved with little boys."

Guimel tried not to roll his eyes. Sheila had to bring up the fact that she was 12 years his senior every time there had been a problem. Kiss my ass Sheila and get lost.

"I'm serious. Don't you know about the war? I've got a battle in the morning! Now get out of here before..."

"Guimel?"

Eep!

Guimel spun to be face to face with Lord Dilandau. "What's going on?"

"Ah, nothing!" Guimel said, swatting Sheila's hands away and glaring at her out of the corner of his eye. "Gatty is awaiting your orders sir; he's with Lord Dryden now. Lets go and..."

"I'm supposed to be talking to Folken. Doesn't he have my mission briefs? Why is Gatty with Dryden instead of Folken being with him?" Lord Dilandau frowned, curious red eyes on Sheila instead of Guimel.

Hm. Guimel realized he hadn't thought of how he was going to explain himself. It probably wasn't a good idea to anger Lord Dilandau before battle...

"Um... Lord Folken doesn't... think it's a good idea for us to join the morning team, but it's your call to make, so we're all standing by."

Lord Dilandau's eyes narrowed as he licked his lips in contemplation. "He doesn't think it's a good idea? Would he rather us go out later in the day?"

"No," Guimel said slowly, trying to gauge the captain's mood before he continued. Damn.

"He wants us to stay out of it? No...no, he wants _me_ to stay out of it? Is that it?"

Lord Dilandau's mouth was a hard line and his eyes were ablaze in his pale face that was beginning to flush with color. "And he told the generals and Lord Dryden this, did he?"

Guimel's mouth opened and closed. He always wondered if Lord Dilandau had some sort of psychic ability, but he figured Folken's actions were pretty easy to guess.

"Hmm..." Lord Dilandau glared in the direction of Folken's room and grabbed Guimel by the arm. "Gatty's waiting for me where?"

"With Dryden in the war room, Dallet's running diagnostics on the Alseides and the others are prepping the cadets..."

"Who mobilized my cadets?"

Shit, he was pissed. Guimel was tugged along after Lord Dilandau as he started to stalk away, leaving poor Sheila to stare after them with the oddest expression on her face... like she'd seen an angel.

Oh yeah... she'd never been exposed to Lord Dilandau up close like that before.

They were almost clear of the hall, when a Folken's voice froze Lord Dilandau in his tracks. Guimel slammed into him and jumped back, gulping at the fury on his leader's face when he turned to face Folken.

"Where are you going, Dilandau? My room is this way." Folken's voice was calm, but the air around him was charged with tension.

Damn. This wasn't good at all.

"Folken..." Lord Dilandau released his firm grip on Guimel's arm and took a step towards the man.

Guimel pulled out his comm, shaking out the sore arm Lord Dilandau had let go of as he found Dallet's frequency.

"Dally, I think we got a problem."

* * *

"We can talk in my room, Dilandau," Folken was saying as Dilandau strode up to him. He caught Folken's arm as the man tried to turn and lead Dilandau to his doorway and yanked, pulling Folken to face him.

Folken didn't startle at Dilandau's motion nor shake his grip from his shoulder; he simply stood, staring Dilandau down and silently waiting for him to speak his mind.

"Did you tell Lord Dryden that I would not, no, _could not_ under your authority, participate in battle this morning?" Dilandau demanded, tightening his hold on Folken, very thankful he hadn't grabbed the metal arm.

"Not in those exact words, Dilandau, but yes I did."

"Why?" There was no point in reminding himself to stay calm, for that was a near impossibility at the present moment. The crude combination of humiliation and the superior look on Folken's face was just too much to tolerate.

Dilandau felt himself shaking and knew Folken could feel it too through his grip. "Calm down, Dilandau," Folken's voice was low with warning. Slowly he leaned forward, until his forehead almost brushed Dilandau's. "And you know why, so I won't dignify that question with a response."

Folken's cool breath on his face infuriated Dilandau even more than his words had. He let go of Folken's arm and raised his hands to give Folken a shove, and Folken caught his arms, holding them crushingly tight.

"You're behaving childishly, Dilandau. You know everything I do and say is with your best interest in mind. I don't trust you when it comes to that."

"I don't need anyone to trust me with myself," Dilandau growled, narrowing his eyes and fighting to rip himself free of Folken. "Let me go!"

"If I let go, you're going to run off and tell Dryden you're going to war. I cannot allow that."

"I don't take orders from you!" Gods, Folken's metal fingers were biting into his skin; he could feel the flesh tearing. "What right do you have to speak for me to other people and to tell them what I can and can't do?"

"Well, Dilandau, if you had been there maybe..."

"What? Maybe what, Folken?– We could have done this in front of Lord Dryden? Bet he'd have enjoyed it!"

"You're being ridiculous! You're in no condition to..."

"And just what condition is that, Folken? What is it you're trying _not_ to tell me? You're scaring my men, Folken... and... you're scaring me. Just say it man and let me get on with _it_!"

"Dilandau..." Folken's eyes went wide and he swallowed, hard. "Now is not the time; this is not the place..."

"There's never a freakin' time or a damn place, Folken! Not for this, not for me. Stop treating me like I'm some baby that can't handle anything."

"But..."

"But what?" Dilandau gasped; he was no longer seeing red, but his teeth still chattered with adrenaline induced anxiety. He wanted to burn something, throw something... And gods, Folken was hurting him. He was positive he was bleeding now. "Let go, dammit!"

"You are a baby, a child. You shouldn't have to... These are things I shouldn't have to tell you, that I don't want to tell you. If you could give me more time..."

"Do I have time, Folken? Just tell me I have time!"

"If you stay, if you listen to me..."

Dilandau was shaking his head. "No, no more of that!" He was so frustrated with Folken giving him instructions and making promises. _Do as I say, take this medicine, stay behind, Dilandau..._ He had listened to Folken so far and here they were with Folken holding back, afraid to tell him the truth Dilandau was petrified to hear.

But...

Gods, why did he still want to hear it?

Would it put something inside him to rest?

Could he look his Slayers in the face then?

He knew. He already knew, but Folken would confirm it. Folken... could make it real.

But do I want real?

I should leave; I should go; I should run. Now wasn't time to be a man; now was time to be a boy, the boy Folken claimed he was...

"So... I'm a child, am I?"

Folken stared, his iron grip still locking Dilandau in place.

"Yes, Dilandau, regardless of how everyone treats you and what they ask of you, you're 15 years old and you need a guardian."

"Someone who knows best, huh?"

"Yes."

"And that's you?"

"Yes!"

"You're hurting me."

Folken blinked a few times, then finally realized the position of his hands on Dilandau's arms and how tightly his fingers were curled. Dilandau let out a sigh of relief when the pressure was removed and he glanced at his right sleeve to see spots of blood where crushing fingers had once been.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Dilandau said softly. He tentatively reached out to pat the man on the shoulder, watching Folken relax and almost smile.

"I'll be a child today then, Folken..."

Folken frowned, wheels turning...

Now, Folken wasn't one to be stumped for long.

"...and children run." Dilandau backed away, turning his head to avoid Folken's gaze. Dilandau didn't want to decipher the look in those eyes. "Guimel, get my armor. I'll be with Gatty."

Before Folken could recover and reach for him, Dilandau ran.

* * *

"Allen, gods, Allen– it was wonderful! I think... No, I know I'm in love. I didn't know if I really knew what it was, since I'm so clueless about everything else according to you. But Allen, he gives me butterflies and all of the things we did– every time he took my hand or smiled or spoke to me like one of his good friends something in me started singing! I heard music! Oh, and you should see his artwork! We went to this ink parlor and I was too scared to get a tattoo and he convinced the guy at the shop to let him do a... he called it a 'dye job'... on my chest! Uh... well I can't exactly show it to you here..." Van looked around the hangar warily at all of the men bustling by with equipment and weapons. "But after this..."

"Van." Van jumped as Allen took his shoulders and shook him. "Look at me."

Van stared at the blond man before him, frowning at the serious set of his face and the gravity in his cornflower eyes. "Wha...?"

"The first official battle of the war is starting in a few hours, Van. _The war_. I'm glad you had fun on your date; I'm happy you got to have one, but it's time for work now. I need you to be serious." Allen's voice was light but stern. He let Van go with a sigh, after studying the crestfallen expression that had to be all over Van's face. "After this is over, I'll hear about it, Van."

Van smiled, wanting to hug Allen for being so... Van couldn't think of the word he was looking for. What he felt for Allen wasn't just gratitude for being helpful or kind; it was more than that, much more. It was almost like what he had felt for... for Folken a long time ago in Fanelia, back when Folken was still his brother.

Allen was like a brother. Van wondered if Allen felt the same for him? He could find that out easily. Hesitantly Van wrapped his arms around Allen, resting his head against his chest for a moment and hearing his heartbeat.

If he pushes me away...

Strong arms enclosed around him briefly, patting his back and running a quick hand through his hair, before giving him a little tap to let go.

"You're welcome, Van," Allen whispered, but he didn't say what for and Van could sense it had nothing to do with the dating advice.

"Is Escaflowne ready?" Van asked, stepping back and blushing at the attention they were receiving from a few men.

"Yes," Allen nodded. "We've already placed it aboard the Crusade, unless you wanted to fly out ahead."

"I'll probably scout out ahead. The Crusade has no real defenses against aerial attack," Van said. "And it would be better if both of us didn't have to be dropped from the hatch. Too much of a delay."

"Hm," Allen touched his chin thoughtfully. He turned to stare at his airship and his men hard at work making sure everything was intact and set for departure. "Do you know if Dilandau is going to join us?"

"Huh?" Van frowned, scratching his head. "If he wants to ride in the Crusade? I don't think he would. He likes piloting too much."

"No, Van. Is he planning on leading his men into battle. There was a dispute about it before. Lord Folken doesn't think it's a good idea..."

"Folken? What does he have to do with anything?" Folken was starting to irritate Van and he wasn't even in the room. "Dilandau's gone to meet with him, but I don't see any reason why he wouldn't give orders to mobilize his unit. Our students will be out there."

"Are those kids truly ready, Van?" Allen asked after a beat. "Gatty says they are, but..."

"They're as ready as they'll ever be. They are the best we could train and they are better than a lot of the other men that have been training for years, but..."

"But?"

"I don't think Dilandau would agree with me."

Allen nodded once. "They'll serve their country well."

"Just how bad do you think this thing is going to be Allen?"

Van was trying not to feel fear. He wanted to fight and he'd been given great power to do so. It was his job to protect and defend and he was damn good at it, but... a war? His first war.

What would it be like? He'd fought battles, but they had felt like climbing the rickety, wooden ladder to a tall slide. Van was at the top now, looking at how high he'd been brave enough to climb and considering the plunge.

He could still turn back and climb down, but people were looking up at him now; they needed to see him go first before they'd follow.

Van couldn't let them down.

"Lord Van!" Van braced himself as Merle glomped onto his back. He hadn't heard her coming over the noise of the room.

"Merle," Van gasped as the wind was knocked out of him. He giggled as Merle rubbed her furry cheek against his smooth one. "What are you doing up?"

"Are you kidding?" Merle hopped down. "Who could sleep through all of this... or her?" Merle's voice dipped as she tugged Van's leather sleeve and gestured to the side.

Hitomi stood next to Allen; she'd appeared as swiftly as Merle had with no warning. Her face was pale and grim, her green eyes large and haunted.

"Hitomi, what are you doing here?" Allen asked, taking the girl's hands carefully. "You don't look well. You should be in bed."

Van rolled his eyes. Allen could be such a hen. "Hitomi, have you had another vision?"

Those were always helpful and it was nice when the girl pulled her weight every once in a while.

Hitomi focused on Van, frowning. "No. I haven't had another vision, and I don't plan to either. I've stopped that."

Oh? Van raised a brow. Once again, the girl sounded like she was on the verge of a breakdown. How many breakdowns could a person have in the course of a day? He was sure Hitomi held some sort of record.

"So, what are you doing here? Come to see us off?" Allen let go of her hands and they fell to her sides, curling into small fists.

"I don't want you to fight, either of you," she fumed.

"But Hitomi..." Allen began, bewildered by her mood and Van felt Merle nudge him in the side.

"See what I mean?" she hissed in his ear. "Why do I always get stuck with her? She creeps me out."

Van wanted to chuckle, but the heat of Hitomi's glare discouraged him.

"Hitomi, I have to protect my country. We're fighting for the fate of Gaea. You know this. Van and I..."

"Are going to kill people!" Hitomi shouted. "How can you do it? How can you stand it?"

"Hitomi, calm down," Van said gently, moving toward her and stretching out a hand. Maybe if he held her hand... but then again, it hadn't worked out very well when Allen had done it.

Hitomi backed away, shaking her head, eyes full of tears. "Please don't go, Van. Please..."

Van was truly confused now. Don't go? But... "Hitomi, I have to. I have people to protect, people like you and Merle. The Escaflowne is vital to bringing an end to this war..."

There was no right thing to say to the distraught girl. She covered her face, weeping as Merle groaned and rolled her eyes. Van wanted to do the same, but it wouldn't be very becoming of him. He thanked whatever god had been assigned to his pitiful case, when his attention had been steered away from Hitomi and toward Dilandau. He was easier to deal with. If he was bored, give him a book, if he was hungry toss him an apple, if he seemed frustrated, give him a sword.

Thank the gods and goddesses for making men such simple creatures. Women were so... ugh, or maybe it was just Hitomi.

"Good thing you don't like her anymore, Lord Van," Merle was saying to him coyly, and Van jumped, glaring at her lightly. He'd almost forgotten she was there as he stared at Hitomi lost in thought.

"I do like Hitomi, Merle! That was mean of you to say." Van chewed his bottom lip. He was responsible for Hitomi; he had to see her home safely. Anyone he still felt such a sense of duty for had to be somewhat likeable. Though, gazing at the snot faced girl now with Allen trying to smooth her hair and comfort her, he was finding it quite hard and maybe a little repulsive.

"Not like _that_ anymore," the cat girl insisted with a secret smirk and Van frowned.

"What are you getting at?"

Merle stood on her toes to whisper in his ear, "Personally, I like your new choice better, even if he's the ex-blood thirsty, psychopath and current jerk that torched our homeland."

She knew?

She knew!

"How did you...?"

"The contact sheet gave it away."

"You went through my things?" Oh my.

Van hadn't meant to say that so loudly. He suddenly found himself the center of everyone within a 10 meter radius' attention. Van gave a nervous titter and waved shyly, before grabbing Merle by a naughty hand.

"I can't believe you went through my stuff!"

"Van, what's gotten you so worked up?" Allen was staring at him as he offered Hitomi a handkerchief. Hitomi took the dainty white cloth and dabbed at her red eyes.

"N...nothing!" Van said hurriedly. He hadn't told Allen about his list and he didn't want Hitomi knowing about it either. By the gods... if Merle knew, did that mean Hitomi knew as well?

"I've got something to take care of... outside. See you in a minute. Um... I...uh...hope you feel better Hitomi." Van dug a toe into the stone floor and met her teary gaze. Girls sure knew how to make a man feel guilty. He sighed deeply, running a gloved hand through his hair. "Ah... Maybe we can talk after I get back. We haven't done that in a while."

Hitomi's face brightened a bit, thin lips curling into a tiny semblance of a smile. "O...ok, Van."

Van smiled at her and looked to Allen, brows drawing together at the stormy expression thundering behind his eyes. "Ah... I'll be back. Come on, Merle."

Van gave Merle a tug and the girl giggled, skipping along beside him and linking her arm through his. They ducked just outside of the hangar where they could still here the clamber of men and tools in the background.

"Merle..."

"Lord Van," Merle shushed him, moving to stand in front of him. "I didn't go through your stuff. I know you don't like it. You left it sitting out and I put it away for you."

Van gasped. How careless was that? What if a maid had come in and seen it, or worse...Dilandau himself. "I... t...thanks." But what did it mean? Merle was being completely normal. Did that mean she was ok with it, or was she just being a girl and about to have a strange mood swing and start ranting at him?

"Lord Van, how long?"

Van blinked, staring at his childhood companion. "I don't know, a few months. Ever since you guys rescued me from that airship, I haven't been able to get him off my mind."

Merle sighed, taking both Van's hands and leaning into his chest plate. "I thought you were nuts for liking Hitomi, and now I think you're positively crazy for going after someone we should by all means hate, Lord Van. But... I don't know, watching you and seeing how happy you seem, maybe you're crazy for all the right reasons."

Watching me? "Merle?"

"You glow, Lord Van. Ever since that boy got here and started talking to you like a real person, this light came on that I haven't seen in a long time. I thought one day, well, that maybe I could be the one who did that for you. When Hitomi first got here, and I saw how you acted around her, I was afraid she'd be the one and you'd forget me. I want to be jealous, but I like seeing you so bubbly. You're like me now. You giggle!"

Van's mouth fell open. Merle? Little Merle had wanted to...?

He gasped as she nipped his ear. "Oh come off it, Lord Van. You know it's every castle maid's dream to marry the handsome prince they serve one day. But you know what, I can settle for being your friend. I mean, I have been for this long."

"Merle, you're more than a friend," Van said, wrapping his arms around her warm, compact body and squeezing tight. "You're the little sister I never had."

His eyes were burning, but tears were no good. Ruffling her hair, he pushed Merle away gently as she purred. "You're really ok with this? Not just with me...liking a guy, but with it being, you know who?"

He was still hesitant to say the name; castle's had many eyes and ears and the last thing he needed was to start something after the spectacle that had been made over he and Dilandau walking in together. And then there was their outing and Dilandau telling all ears that would listen that he was Van's paramour. Dilandau thought it was funny, but he had no idea the rumors he was giving birth too.

Or maybe he did and didn't care.

Gods, Dilandau was a puzzle box, a brain-teasing enigma that Van wanted to figure out piece by piece.

Merle shrugged. "Actually, it makes me feel a little better about myself, you know? After trying all these years to get your attention and failing, I finally know there's nothing wrong with me. So I'm fine with you being into guys. I mean, it's hard to compete with that. With a girl, you can say: What does she have that I don't? With a boy, the answer to the question is obvious and there's nothing you can do about it. Nothing normal anyway."

"And what about it being... him?" Van pressed nervously. "You said you're glad that I'm happy, but still... how do you feel about him?"

Merle blinked. "I trust you, Lord Van, and you wouldn't like anyone that was all bad and you certainly wouldn't fall so hard for someone that doesn't have something to him. I don't know him very well, Van. I see so little of him and that's usually when he's working. But the people who come in contact with him regularly have nothing but good things to say, and... I want to meet him, Van!"

Van started at Merle's large grin. "Next time you take him out on a date you take me too! We'll all go out, and then we can gossip and tell secrets about you behind your back!"

Van shook his head, gapping at her gall. He tickled her without mercy, laughing along with her as she pushed at his hands and tried to get away from him. Silly girl and wow...

He'd really missed this and her. Just being silly and talking about anything and everything...

He thought those days were gone, but maybe they could be returned with the end of the war.

This was what he was fighting for, times to be silly and carefree, times to not have to worry about who was going attack who, and who had the better killing machine. When Zaibach was destroyed there would be many dates and sweets and laughter. Fanelia could be rebuilt and... maybe Van would invite Dilandau and his men to help. They could live there and protect...no wait, after they won there would be no need for protection anymore.

They would play, and... and Van would ask Dilandau to stay...with him.

Van grinned at Merle as she skipped back into the hangar, promising to take Hitomi to her room and look after her.

He felt so good.

He stepped back into the room of grunting men, some taking breaks and joking with one another, greeting Van with sharp nods and crooked smiles.

"Ahem! May I have your attention please? We have a go! The Dragonslayers are in this game, so you monkeys can stop wearing holes in my ass with your eyes and get some freakin' work done!" Dallet stood atop a silver Alseid with both hands cupped around his mouth to amplify the sound of his voice.

The room erupted in cheers, hoots, and whistles.

"We're gonna send those Zaibach bastards back to hell!" Someone yelled.

"Yeah!"

Van chuckled, adding a whistle of his own to the chaos of victory already claimed.

To the end of the war!– and to the beginning of everything else!

* * *

"Viole, I need your help with something."

Viole's head jerked up at the sound of his captain's voice. He sat with his legs crossed under him, head bowed as he waited for Lord Dilandau to change into his armor. Lord Dryden had allowed them the use of his own lavatory, when Guimel had brought in Lord Dilandau's uniform.

Viole stood up, stretching his arms and legs. The hard marble floor hadn't been exactly comfortable. He supposed he could have sat on one of plush couches, but then he would have gone to sleep.

His body just wasn't used to being woken at all hours of the night anymore. On the Vione, Lord Dilandau had ordered them up at all hours of the night, preparing them for battle at any time. Viole could run off of 30 minutes of sleep, his body had been so well trained then, but now... gah. He needed at least 4 hours.

Miguel had offered him coffee, until he realized who he was talking to and hid the supply from Viole. Viole snorted at the memory as he trudged past the blue couches. Couches in the bathroom, reminds me of Mother dearest, except she actually went as far as to have a daybed and full canopy. With bathrooms like these, who needs bedrooms?

Viole turned the corner, pushing open the partial doors modeled after those he'd seen in saloons. Nice... he wanted some for his bathroom if he ever lost his mind and thought to make it as big as a bedroom with rooms and furniture inside it.

Lord Dilandau stood with his back to the large mirror over the silver double sink counter, clothed in only the blue leather pants of his Astorian garb. His red eyes glittered as Viole came to stand in front of him.

"What is it?"

_He's lost more weight_. Viole tried not to stare at how much more pronounced his rib cage was or the fading red marks along his thin arms.

Poor Lord Dilandau.

But that wasn't what he wanted to hear at all, whether it be spoken or unspoken, and Viole respected that. No man wanted pity.

When Viole died, he didn't even want a funeral, because it would give people reason to come together and dwell on their loss. In fact, maybe he'd go away before he died, so no one would ever know it happened. He'd just be missing in action; that way Viole Castelloni would be a mystery not a tragedy.

"I need you to hold this," Lord Dilandau shoved a moist face-cloth that he'd cut in half and a roll of gauze tape in Viole's hands, "against something on my back and tape it in place."

"Are you h... woah!" Lord Dilandau turned around to snatch his shirt off the sink and Viole saw the palm-sized winged serpent uncoiling from the loose waistband of his pants. Hues of blue and green were swirled in a mesmerizing dance of paint blends, and Viole moved to touch it. Was it real?

Lord Dilandau's hiss of pain answered that question.

"Don't poke it!"

"You got this done with Van, didn't you? Did he get one? You guys went off and got tattoos and didn't tell me? I want a tattoo! Did it hurt? I heard getting it on your back hurts like hell! But it's so cool looking! Where'd you go to get it done? The artist did a smoking job. Look at that; looks real...like it could strike..."

"Viole!"

"Oh!" Viole grinned sheepishly, shaking out the cloth and dutifully covering the tattoo and the slightly reddened area around it. He carefully applied the gauze tape and patted the job lightly when he was finished. "Um... you want to put the rest of the towel or something else over it for extra padding? It looked kinda tender."

"Not tender enough for you _not_ to stab your fingers into it," Lord Dilandau grumbled, pulling his shirt over his head. Viole moved his hands as cool silk toppled over his fingertips. He stood back as Lord Dilandau swung his overcoat over his shoulders. "Tie it loosely in back for me, Viole."

Viole nodded, helping his captain straighten the light coat of armor and get it situated over his shoulders before pulling the leather straps to tighten it. "Tell me when it gets too tight."

"Keep pulling."

Viole gave another yank, getting the odd feel of tightening a woman's corset. Lord Dilandau's waist was so narrow. "Enough."

"Alright." He tied pulled the straps through the buckles, wrapping them around a few times and tying them. "We really should look into having this thing resized. It's too big."

"I'm too skinny," Lord Dilandau corrected him. "It fit when we first had it made."

Viole sighed, ruffling Lord Dilandau's hair. "Yeah, it did."

"Viole..." Lord Dilandau's voice was small and Viole closed his eyes, dipping his chin onto Lord Dilandau's shoulder.

"Yeah buddy?"

"Are you ready, Viole? For war, I mean."

Viole could feel his friend's tremors and he took a deep breath, before giving an answer to his interpretation of the question.

"Is anyone ever ready?" He looped his arms around his waist, smiling lightly as Lord Dilandau relaxed against him. "For war, I mean."

Lord Dilandau swallowed. "No, probably not. I'm not anyway and... I don't want to be, so..."

"Maybe we shouldn't go?" Viole raised a brow, cracking one eye open to peer at Lord Dilandau's profile.

Lord Dilandau shook his head. "No, we have to. We don't get a choice in this, you know? Folken tried to give us one, but it didn't work. He really tried, though."

"Yeah buddy, he did." Viole carefully turned with Lord Dilandau and led him from the wash area back into the powder room that housed the couches. He sat down with Lord Dilandau, curling to accommodate for the other boy as he crumbled in Viole's lap.

Viole held him, rocking him gently and tangling his fingers in thick silver hair. The only sound heard from either boy was the creaking of their leather uniforms as one moved to comfort and the other yielded to be comforted.

Slowly, Lord Dilandau pulled away from Viole, sitting up. His milky face was dry, but his eyes were so heavy with turmoil Viole almost fell over into _his _lap. "You want to go now?"

Not "Are you ready?"

"Only if you want to, sir. We can stay here a little longer. There's no rush. I kinda like it in here. It's quiet."

The tiniest glimmer of a smile shone on his captain's face and a silent "thank you," swam to the surface of the grief pool that were his eyes. "Let's stay."

"Alright."

Viole slumped back into the couch pillows, losing himself in their softness. It felt like reclining on clouds. Why couldn't his bed feel this good? He shut his eyes and grunted in light surprise as the weight of another fell against his shoulder and side.

Viole turned his head slightly, opening his eyes to see Lord Dilandau beside him, staring at him. "Viole?"

"Yeah buddy?"

"Can I talk to you?"

Viole blinked. "Of course."

_Are you ready, Viole_?

No.

* * *

Valeska hummed to herself as she waited for the order to mobilize. The harbor looked so boring from here, so blue, so peaceful. It would look better in red, blood red... fire red...

She chuckled to herself as her eyes painted in the needed colors from the bridge of Delate's hangar.

Delate hadn't turned out to be so bad after all. Adelphos hadn't given her anymore good for nothing soldiers to train and he was no longer trying to tell her what she couldn't do. She was given battle coordinates and she was allowed to do as she saw fit.

She'd turned East Astoria into a beautiful masterpiece of bloody ashes. It was a much needed improvement, but she got the vague impression that the Astorians were angry about it.

Oh well, what did those idiots know about art anyway? They should be thanking her for cleansing that awful area, too many aristocrats and stone houses. In fact, she would demand a formal sign of gratitude when she got to the castle. Maybe she'd have old King Aston write her a nice card and sign it... in blood.

She laughed outright at that idea, startling a few soldiers that hurried by her, throwing nervous glances at her over their shoulders.

She grinned at them barbarically. Wimps.

"Lord Valeska."

Valeska tamed her grin into a friendly smile as she turned to greet Jajuka. "Jajuka! Have you brought my orders?"

"Yes sir," the beast man nodded. "We're to launch in 10 minutes."

"Any formation?"

"Not for you, sir."

"Excellent. Come Jajuka, I want to be the first out of the hangar, so we'll have to reposition our guymelefs."

"Yes sir."

Valeska chuckled, taking Jajuka's arm and pushing him in front of her to hurry him along. Everything was moving much too slowly! The fight of their lives was about to begin and no one seemed excited about it but her.

What was wrong with these people?

She bet Dilandau was excited.

Dilandau was down there, waiting.

Valeska paused beside her Alseid, shoving the chubby mechanic that was shaking his head at her and waving her away.

"I'm not finished with..."

"Get lost, loser, before I put my sword up your blubbery ass."

She smirked as the man's eyes widened in fear and he backed away from her, breaking into a run as soon as he was out of sword-swinging distance.

That's better. She climbed up the chunky legs of her guymelef and into its belly, plopping down in her piloting chair and propping her feet up on the control board.

She picked her nails with a small dagger from her belt as delightful images of a rematch with Dilandau played in her mind's eye.

Their first duel had been a fluke; the time was wrong; the set was off, but this time– this time everything was just right.

Valeska could already smell the copper and sulfur of victory, a victory already claimed.

I'm ready, Dilandau. Are you?

* * *

Allen frowned as the Crusade circled the harbor again. No sign of anything suspicious. Had they been fooled? Maybe Zaibach had decided to attack elsewhere; which would be wonderful for them because all of Astoria's aid was en route to Palas.

"I'm picking up some energist feedback. Permission to switch on tracker?""

Allen blinked as the voice of one of Dilandau's men crackled over the updated comm system Gaddes' had let be installed on the Crusades' bridge. It was very strange to hear pieces of others' conversations and to know that they could hear you, if they wanted to tune in.

"Granted. Relay your readings to network, Dallet."

"Sir."

Dilandau and his Slayers seemed to be the best of friends outside of battle, but inside there was an air of professionalism that Allen could never dream of obtaining with his men.

"Floating fortress approaching harbor from the east and will be over the bay in T-10 minutes."

"Their Alseides are coming online... I count at least..."

"Eighty-six," Dilandau breathed. "Eighty-six is fine."

"Damn, card-counting cheater."

Allen started at Gaddes' sudden presence right beside him. Allen stood on the bridge, staring out into the blueness of the calm waters of the ocean. "What?"

"Nothing," Gaddes shrugged, gazing out at the sea serenely and placing a hand on Allen's shoulder. "You got orders for us, Boss?"

"Dragonslayers, surround the fortress in sphere formation and fold in as Alseides are dropped. We will take out the first wave. Schezar, you and your people have what follows. Dragonslayers will aid when we've finished with our lot."

Allen scowled, almost growling. The brat had been listening when Gaddes had asked for orders and had given them_ for _Allen.

Who did he think he was?

Gaddes' chuckle brought him back to the bridge. "Lord Dryden put him charge for this one, Boss and you let him. Try not to look so supportive of your decision."

Allen snorted, rolling his eyes at Gaddes. This was all one big joke to him and the rest of his crew. They followed Dilandau's orders as obediently as they followed Allen's, and it made him a little...jealous that someone else could command as much respect from his rag tag team of loyal men as he did.

Gaddes slapped his back heartily, shaking his head and laughing at something on Allen's face. "Don't worry, Boss. We ain't switching loyalties or anything, but I don't know... something about Silver Boss reminds us of you; which makes him easier to tolerate when he starts giving orders."

Allen stared at Gaddes as if he'd lost all reason. Something about Dilandau made his men think of him? Ridiculous.

"We have nothing in common." Allen narrowed his eyes and folded his arms over his chest as Dilandau's Silver team and his red bellied Oreades swept into view. "Enough talk; we're wasting time. Prepare the hatch to drop Scherazade."

"I hear an awful lot of chit-chat in there, Schezar. I hope preparing for battle isn't spoiling your conversation."

Allen wanted to rip the two-way communicator from the deck and throw it through the windows and out to sea. "Mind your business, Dilandau and watch where you're flying! The last thing I need is to have to save you."

"You do owe me," Dilandau purred.

"Activity in the hangar... they're launching early, sir. They've sensed us."

"Talk to you later, Schezar. Some of us have work to do."

Allen fumed and glared at Gaddes as he snickered and stifled the fit a second too late. "Two minutes, then open the hatch."

"Yessir."

Allen walked with his fists balled up at his sides with Gaddes guffaws at his back.

* * *

They'd numbered the first 45 enemy Alseides as they'd exited the hangar and divvied them up, about six per man. Numbers One and Thirty-nine had broken the circle and dropping into the waters of the harbor. "Two touched down, sir! Dallet reported dutifully, though he was sure Lord Dilandau had already noticed.

"It's ok; we've met our quota. Let the rest hit the harbor. Our hands are full up here."

Dallet nodded. He'd been assigned numbers Thirteen through Eighteen.

If they kept 43 men engaged in the air, the ground forces only had to worry about 43. That was unless...

"Six broke away; he's touching down."

Dallet growled in his throat, blowing damp hair out of his eyes. He'd just trimmed his bangs a week ago, dammit. There was something about Astoria and rapid hair growth. Maybe it was in the water, but at this rate he'd have locks to his butt like Schezar.

Gah.

"Nine and Eight are out of commission, working on Seven!"

"I've got Nineteen, Twenty-one, and Twenty-two out."

Gatty and Shesta were really kicking ass. Every few minutes they announced new statistics of Alseides they'd desecrated while all Dallet and the others seemed to be doing was announcing escapes and damages.

They were really trying to make it up to him.

After that talk, Dallet couldn't help but feel sorry for his comrades. Gatty and Shesta always tried to do right by everyone, but sometimes they overlooked the simple things that could get them in trouble. Dallet had known for a long time, since they'd left the Vione, that Lord Dilandau was...

Well, he was like them. He was a great leader, an incredible warrior, and so smart it blew Dallet's mind at times, but... he was no longer a god or a master to Dallet. He was a comrade, and comrades were proud, they got scared, they did stupid things to cover fear with bravado– they needed comfort.

Sometimes the others forgot; it was easy to when Lord Dilandau was in a place like Astoria with older people and fresh cadets looking at him with reverence in their eyes. It was like back on the Vione with everyone acknowledging Lord Dilandau was the best of the best...

And forgetting he was a kid, or maybe never knowing at all.

If someone told Dallet he was going to die, he would deny to the end and scream all the way to hell.

Gatty and Shesta meant well; they did, and Dallet couldn't get mad at them as Guimel had, but geez... And then there was Folken– Guimel had told him about that.

The smartest decision made was to back down, and Viole was the one to instate it. He'd come out of Lord Dryden's bathroom with Lord Dilandau and didn't leave his side, except to say "He'll tell you when he's ready," to the rest of them.

"Four and Three are out." Miguel sounded winded.

"Status, Miguel?"

"Puncture to the left flank. I need a shadow."

"I'll do it," Lord Dilandau volunteered. "Twenty-six, Twenty-seven, Twenty-eight, Twenty-nine, Thirty, and Thirty-two are out."

Damn. Forget Gatty and Shesta, Lord Dilandau was kicking serious ass.

Dallet grimaced as his Silver was struck in the chest and he went spiraling into the Alseid behind him, upsetting its balance. They both spiraled toward the bay, hitting the water with a loud splash. Dammit! The circle was broken! He'd let them break the circle!

Dallet thrashed in the water, using already lengthened and firmed claws to slash the melef he'd brought down with him in its vitals organs. Sluggish liquid metal blood polluted the clean waters, and Dallet threw the throttle of his Silver upward, surging out of the water like porpoise and spiraling into the sky, taking down two enemies plunging down toward him. "Sixteen, Fifteen, and Eighteen are out."

"Twenty-three out!"

Dallet wondered when he'd be ready.

He thrust a claw forward. "Twenty-one out!"

Maybe never.

But did it really matter?

He spun, bashing in the head of Thirty-three. "Thirty-three gone!"

Dallet didn't understand why talking and making plans were so important to some people. He liked doing things on a whim or because he felt like it. He and Guimel were always into something, constantly finding new things they knew nothing about and throwing themselves in without checking to see if there was land below.

He severed the head of Thirteen and ran Eleven through. "Thirteen and Eleven out for the count."

It was Dallet's idea to sail. Neither of them had ever thought on it before, but after spending a night on the beach and watching the boats pass, that was all they had thought about since.

Open sea meant adventure, uncharted territory, new experiences, and the mysterious unknown that made Dallet's nerves tingle with anticipation.

Guimel had suggested that they take Lord Dilandau with them.

"Thirty-eight and Forty-three are out!"

The circle was fanning out as Alseides they hadn't tagged were allowed passage, forty units hit the waters and scattered below heading to shore where the Astorian troops including Allen Schezar and Van Fanel lay in wait.

Lord Dilandau had sent the cadets back to their training hall.

They weren't needed, he'd said.

"Holy shit look at what they're doing on shore!"

"Thirty-six down..."

The sky was clearing, all of their opponents nearly gone. Dallet spared another quick glance at the shore and gasped at the Alseides torching buildings on the dock.

"Miguel, Viole, finish cleaning up; the rest of you follow me!"

"Yessir!"

Dallet dove after his comrades, whooping at the speed of the drop and wanting to repeat the action.

"Stop goofing around, Dallet," Gatty hissed over his comm and Dallet sneered, looking for the switch to lock Gatty out of his two way frequency. There were perks to being a mechanic.

They hovered above the water, cruising to shore. A few Alseides turned to face them, wanting to fence them in the gulf and prevent them from joining their allies.

Didn't they see what happened in the sky?

"Spread out, I want one straight line for Wheel maneuver."

Ooh, they hadn't done that one outside of practice.

Dallet fell into place, straightening the trunk of his Alseid and waiting for Lord Dilandau's command. "And..." The enemy Alseides neared the edges of the docks, extending liquid metal swords. Their booster engines flared and they rose a foot or more into the air, about to blast forward toward them...

"Now!"

As a unit they rotated, the straight line they'd formed becoming a long arm that swung around and batted their opponents into the harbor behind the Silvers and placing them on the shores. "Visors down; get back!"

Dallet had already pulled down his visor and was in motion, getting out of the way of Lord Dilandau's flamethrower.

"Danger zone Miguel and Viole!"

"Yessir!"

Dallet didn't have to look back to see if things had gone according to plan for Lord Dilandau's wicked laughter said it all.

Dallet threw himself at a Zaibach Alseid, drawing it into a duel as his sensors went crazy. What the... He blinked as he took down his opponent, frowning at the readings he was receiving.

"Lord Dilandau!"

He was still cackling. "What Dallet?"

"Another fortress is approaching!"

"Miguel, Viole, fall in! There's no use fighting a fresh wave in the air now. Form a blockade and I'll cook as many as I can before they reach land!"

Dallet chuckled. He loved when Lord Dilandau talked like that, like they couldn't lose.

It wasn't in his vocabulary.

But he'd tell them when it was...

So anyway, Guimel suggested that they bring Lord Dilandau with them when they went sailing.

"Here they come!"

Dallet thought it was a great idea.

It was a good time of year for an ocean voyage, and Dallet was sure that Lord Dilandau was ready... to get away.

They'd ask when it was over.

* * *

They were fighting like amateurs or so it seemed compared to the Dragonslayers. They'd taken down more than half of the enemy forces in air and on shore. Perhaps Allen hadn't needed to come out at all. He stepped back as the Zaibach Alseid in front of him fell, pulling Scherazade's sword from its chest.

So far he'd taken down 5 men, and he'd lost track of Van through the flames the first battalion's foot soldiers were busy trying to put out while avoiding Zaibach's stomping feet. Allen whirled at the sound of men screaming, a purple melef flew straight up into the air and was going to bring the weight of his body down on the water tower, collapsing the structure onto the second battalion foot soldiers being fenced in by two blue melefs.

Not if Allen could help it. He rushed onto the scene, leaping and intercepting the purple giant before it could touch ground. "Van! I need your assistance in sector two."

"I've got my hands full, Allen," Van grunted, his voice strained over the comm. "Escaflowne's covered in that sticky gunk Zaibach's spraying and I'm trying to get it off."

Great.

Allen and the purple giant tumbled a few times as they hit the ground, and Allen managed to end up on top. He tried to deliver a quick punch to the melef's head and leapt up, still needing to clear the scene of the other two Alseides threatening his allies.

Scherazade toppled forward from the massive blow to the back it took. Allen didn't have time to gasp as he went down, biting his tongue and tasting blood.

"You're either very brave or incredibly stupid to challenge me again, Schezar."

That voice... The melef... It was– what was his name? The boy that had killed Duke Freid... Valeska! "Did you really miss me that much?"

Allen was pinned down by the heavy foot of the purple giant.

"To tell you the truth..."

Allen grimaced at the dying cries of desperate men in their final moments. He couldn't see; Scherazade's face was in the dirt and he received no visuals, which was probably a good thing.

He didn't want to gaze at his failure.

"...I'd forgotten all about you," Valeska continued as if nothing was happening, like she couldn't hear the screams. "But, as I recall, you were a decent opponent once. Maybe I should let you up and give you another chance to face me."

Allen growled, struggling to throw Valeska off and regain his footing. He had to get off the ground!

"But this time there will be no dragons to save you." He chuckled throatily. "I should probably just kill you here and save you the embarrassment."

Dammit. Zaibach had no honor! Valeska had struck from behind and would kill him while he had no chance of fighting back. Allen would have at least allowed his opponent a chance to turn and face him, and he would never hit from behind.

It was a symbol of cowardice.

"You're a coward, Valeska."

Allen grunted as the pressure of Valeska's foot on Scherazade's back began to press into his own.

"What did you call me?" Valeska's voice had risen an octave, making him sound rather feminine.

"You... are... a... coward!" Allen shouted, gasping after each word as the pressure increased. How long until Valeska crushed him?

Allen sucked in a deep breath of relief when the foot was taken from his back then groaned as it was only replaced by a metal knee. Valeska seized hold of the back of Scherazade's head, and Allen braced himself as the head was thrust into the ground over and over.

"What did you call me? I'm giving you a chance to take it back!"

Allen was silent, swallowing the blood that still pooled in his mouth and closing his eyes against the stars and flashes of light flooding his vision. He wasn't going to say another word to the enemy. He would die in silence. Though it stung that Allen Schezar, Knight of Heaven, would fall to a lowly bastard like Valeska. A death without honor...

Allen gave a small yelp as Scherazade was flipped over onto its side, but sighed when he realized he was free of Valeska's grip. He moved Scherazade's head cautiously, hoping Valeska hadn't damaged anything, to get a visual of the field. What had happened, and more importantly, where was the enemy?

"How dare you interrupt me? Don't you people ever get tired of getting in my way!" Valeska was shouting. His guymelef was getting to its feet and shooting out spires of liquid metal that hardened into two swords.

"Well, well...if it isn't, my Valentine. If I had known you were going to be here, I would have sent you a message to meet me privately."

Allen started at the sound of Dilandau's voice, but he couldn't see him. The Oreades must have been behind him. He was talking to Valeska like an old friend. Were they friends?

Maybe the Dragonslayers hadn't broken all of their ties with Zaibach and still had comrades within the enemy ranks. If so, would Dilandau betray Astoria so not to fight his friend?

From what he'd seen of the boy, friendship was very important to him.

Great good gods.

Allen needed to send out an alert. Did his radio still work?

"Dilan, dear? Is that you? It's been ages!"

Static and fuzz. Damn, damn, damn!

"You want to pick this up where we left off?" Dilandau asked coyly.

"No, not today, darling. I want to start fresh. Let me show you my new toy!"

Allen's eyes widened as the mouth of the purple melef opened and a canon of some sort peeped from its lips. An arc of golden rusty liquid spewed forth, drops of it falling to the earth and eating away at whatever it touched.

Acid, it was some sort of acid, and Scherazade was in its path.

He couldn't move. The joints had locked!– but suddenly he felt something lifting him and hurling him out of the way. He caught a glimpse of the Oreades as he toppled behind it. "If you can move, Schezar, I suggest you do so now."

Dilandau.

So he wasn't defecting?

"Oh...look at what I've done to your pretty red breast plate. Looks like I melted the color off. Let me help you fix it!"

* * *

Van's heart leapt into his throat as he peered down at the purple mecha sending a claw spiraling toward Dilandau's chest. The hand of Dilandau's Oreades came up, catching the claw and letting it spin in its hand like a drill. Without warning, Dilandau blasted forward, extending a claw of his own into the purple mecha's side.

The purple giant's arm was withdrawn and the drill changed shape, hardening into a sword that Dilandau replicated. In a flurry of motion, the duel began, a frightening display of skills Van hoped he'd never be called upon to show.

Allen was struggling to his knees behind the altercation, Scherazade looking worse for wear, and Van landed the Escaflowne beside him. Hopping off the dragon's back as Escaflowne began its transformation. He slid inside the hatch, locking his limbs in place before turning to rush into battle.

Van had to help Dilandau! He'd fought that lavender Alseid before and it was no joke. The pilot inside knew what he was doing.

It had been like... like fighting a Dilandau with no control; almost like when he'd been aboard the Vione, and he'd fought Dilandau face to face for the first time.

"Allen, are you alright?"

Dilandau might not need his help after all, but Allen wasn't looking so good.

"I'm fine," Allen called back, his voice hoarse. "Scherazade needs a few minutes to come back online. Can you...?"

"Of course." Van moved to shield Scherazade until it could function well enough to get out of ground zero.

"Look at the way they fight." Escaflowne helped Scherazade to its feet.

The Oreades and purple Alseid met each other blow for blow, step for step. It was a brutal ballet, two dance partners arguing over who would lead the waltz. As they twirled and pirouetted they shouted taunts and jeers at each other like old buddies.

"You've gotten a lot better, Valeska. Looks like somebody's been practicing since the last time I kicked her ass!" Dilandau was laughing.

Her? The pilot of the purple mecha was a woman?

"As I recall, that fight was never finished Dilan dearest; that's quite the ego you've got there, claiming victories before you've actually won."

Dilandau snorted. "We professionals do that all the time when we know we're up against amateurs like you, Val."

"Funny. One thing I can say, Dilan, is that your jokes have improved," Valeska chuckled. "Wonder if you'll still be making them after I finish you off."

"Good gods, how can they talk so much and still concentrate on what they're doing?" Van wondered aloud. He'd never known Dilandau to talk very much during combat except to give the occasional instruction.

"Ha!"

Dilandau missed a down block and Valeska scored a hit, stabbing deep into the shoulder of the Oreades. Van gasped, trying to move the Escaflowne forward, but being stopped by Scherazade's now working hand. "No, Van. Look."

Valeska tried to retract her claw. Something was happening. Steam was rising from the body of the Oreades and Valeska's metal sword was melting, reducing back to its liquid metal state and pouring from Dilandau's wound to the ground uselessly. Dilandau punched straight forward, sending Valeska flying back in surprise as she gazed at what had become of her arm in confusion.

Dilandau shot two spires of hardening alloy into the enemy melef, waiting until the protruded from the back before hardening the ends into hooks. Slowly he dragged the melef toward him, a canon poking from the Oreades' lips as Valeska's monster began spitting golden acid, to smother the attack with tendrils of flame. The acid ignited in midair, exploding in Valeska's face and causing her Alseid to go limp. "Val? Valentine, hon, you conscious?"

"Go to hell..."

"Only after you, Valeska. Only after you, so get ready!"

Van and Allen watched as Dilandau ripped one crima claw, still in hook form, from Valeska and straightened it into a rapier over her heart.

The battle was dying down around them. The Dragonslayers had bought Astoria this easy victory with little help from anyone else, no question about it, and the crowning jewel of the event would be the death of this woman, the one that called herself Lord Valeska.

"What the..."

A great blue column of light enveloped the purple mecha and Dilandau was quick to pull out and jump back, not knowing what was going on.

Valeska gave a shrill scream that hung in the air even as she faded along with the light.

Van blinked. That blue light had to have come from...

"Hitomi," Allen uttered.

Van looked heavenward. Hitomi.

A loud thump brought Van's attention back to battle and he turned to see the Oreades on its knees. "Oh no... Dilandau!"

Van rushed to the Oreades side, leaving Allen behind to stare at where Valeska had been. The blue light had taken Valeska away. Where had she gone and what did it mean?

"Dilandau?" Escaflowne stood beside the Oreades.

"Van?"

"Are you ok?"

"That light..."

"Don't worry about it. I know what it was," Van shushed him.

"It felt like..."

"Are you hurt?" The fight was over; it was safe to dismount. Maybe Van should get out and go over to Dilandau. He sounded like he'd hit his head. Van put the Escaflowne in a kneel and popped the hatch, jumping off the knee to the ground and climbing up Dilandau's Oreades. He knocked on the hatch and waited for Dilandau to open up.

Van gazed out at the field, seeing Astorian soldiers putting out the last of the fires, poking at dead soldiers from Zaibach Alseides, and gathering their injured or fallen comrades. Allen was coming out of Scherazade and walking toward Van with one arm wrapped around his rib cage.

Allen had said he was fine!

Van frowned, realizing he'd heard nothing from Dilandau. "Dilandau?"

Was there a release mechanism somewhere on the door? Van had to get in! He could be bleeding to death or unconscious, or... the hatch opened.

Dilandau climbed out, stumbling into Van's arms and actually letting Van support his weight as he got shaky legs under him. He was slippery with sweat and trembling so hard, Van was afraid he'd lose his grip on him. "Easy... Allen!"

Allen stood at the base of the Oreades, peering up at them. "Is he hurt?"

"Yeah, yeah I think so," Van said softly, not sure of what to do with... well his hands. His arms were around Dilandau's waist, but what to do with his hands? Should he keep them locked like they were now, should he rub his back, should he smooth his hair from his eyes?

Dilandau pillowed his head on Van's shoulder, his voice a faint whisper. "Don't let me fall, Van."

Van almost fainted himself in panic as Dilandau's body went limp against his. "Allen, get up here! He's passed out!"

* * *

Folken took Dilandau from his Slayers. One of them, he couldn't remember who, had been carrying him.

_I told him not to go._

_I told him to stay._

_I told him... _

Folken reached the lab in no time, pushing past an anxious Marie who had been preparing the clinic in back since they had received the transmission that Dilandau was injured. Folken didn't want any of Astoria's military doctors touching Dilandau. He made sure he was the first to reach him.

"Get that armor off him," Marie was instructing as Folken laid Dilandau down on the long table, Marie had spread a white pallet over. The overcoat had already been opened and the steady rise and fall of Dilandau's chest eased the obstruction in Folken's throat. He sat Dilandau up to completely remove the armored jacket and stripped him of the leather pants.

Marie pressed a stethoscope to his chest, listening to his heart and breathing. "Folken, sit down somewhere before you collapse yourself."

Folken blinked, staring at Marie a moment before the black spots dancing before his eyes warned him of the truth fueling Marie's statement. His breath was coming in short pants.

Goddess. He was hyperventilating. He sat on a stool beside the table, feeling the soft cotton of Marie's white coat brushing his arms as she moved.

It was just...

When he'd head the broadcast and then when they'd been given the news... he had thought...

Folken had thought that Dilandau was dead.

"Well good morning, kid. You certainly worked yourself into a state."

Folken blinked behind the hands he'd placed over his eyes. Marie was talking to...

"Ma...rie? Where...?"

Folken was on his feet again, peering down at Dilandau. The boy's eyes were open and his lashes fluttered as he fought to stay awake. His skin was flushed and damp with sweat and silver hair clung to his forehead in elf locks. "Dilandau?"

"Folken."

"I told you not to go out there! Why couldn't you listen to me?"

"Relax, Folken," Marie placed a hand on his arm as she slid the earpieces of the stethoscope from her ears and pressed a hand on Dilandau's forehead, then moved to feel his glands. "No harm done. He passed out before he could reach critical stress levels."

"You weren't gonna get me with those damn sprinklers this time," Dilandau smirked lightly, closing his eyes. "I wanted to beat her."

Sprinklers again? "Dilandau, what are you talking about?"

"Her, Valeska. Every time we fight, something happens. Lights... sprinklers and hoses..."

"Dilan..."

"Shh..." Marie put a finger to Folken's lips. "Let him sleep. His body's telling him something."

Folken frowned against Marie's finger, using his hand to brush it away. "Light, sprinklers, and hoses?"

Marie shrugged. "He's half asleep, Folken. Will you take him to bed?"

Folken nodded. "But shouldn't we keep him in here where he can be monitored? We should keeps tabs on his heart and respiration rates..."

Marie gazed at Folken sadly, her eyes giving a silent answer to Folken's question. What would be the point?

"Gods..."

"...have turned their backs," Marie whispered. "Put him to bed, Folken, and sit with him for a while. I'm sure he won't want to wake up alone. I'll talk to his boys and tell them what's going on."

Folken nodded, gathering Dilandau in his arms once again. Lifting his mass was becoming less and less of a burden.

There was barely anything left.

"Folken?"

He was still awake? "What is it, Dilandau?"

"Out there, while I was fighting, a blue light came..."

Folken sighed, wondering if the blue light had anything to do with the sprinklers and hoses.

"And I felt... it felt like... Celena."

* * *

He turned the page anxious to see how Captain Sparrow was going to get himself out of his current predicament. Such a ridiculous tale could never happen to anyone in real life, though that was probably what people would say about any story Allen had tell.

The words blurred a bit on the page as he leaned forward to reach for his glass of ice tea and stretched the tender area beneath his rib cage. He didn't think he'd broke anything, but maybe he should have had Millerna look at him before he left.

Allen had to get away from the castle for a little while, even if it was only for the night. He didn't want to listen to his men teasing him about being saved by Dilandau once again, or growing a soft spot for the boy because he'd carried him to the Crusade where his Dragonslayers had been waiting, ready to pounce. One would think Allen had done something to hurt the boy with the way they had acted.

Then there was Van, worrying over his crush like he had some terminal illness and Van's brother had done nothing to help the matter, snatching Dilandau away and practically running out of the hangar so fast Dilandau's men could barely keep up.

Allen hadn't seen any of them again after that, and he knew Van hadn't either, because he'd remained at his side, twitching and biting his nails. Allen couldn't say anything to calm his heart, mainly because... what could he say? Dilandau had passed out cold and hadn't stirred for the duration of the trip back to the castle. In Allen's experience, men only passed out for seconds, minutes... not hours. There was something seriously wrong with the boy, and Allen was willing to bet the reason he was unconscious came from a preexisting condition before the harbor battle.

The one Van had been suspicious about and the one Gatty had told him about when he'd asked.

God goods, was he concerned for Dilandau?

And then Hitomi! The girl had lost her mind and announced she was going home, and no one had seen her since she'd stormed away.

He rubbed his temples and gritted his teeth, grabbing his tea and taking a long, deep swallow. The icy beverage rolled down his throat and chilled his spine to the point of bringing pain...but it hurt so good.

He sighed in pleasure.

No more thinking for today, Allen. Enjoy your book, enjoy your tea... In the morning, take a stroll in the garden, sit on the swing; maybe go say a few words to Mother's grave.

That sounded nice.

He reclined in the high-backed, velvet chair, letting his long hair fall over the back of it. He set the tea back on the small, round table under the lamp with the flowery shade, and let his arms hang listlessly to the sides of the chair.

He could sleep here tonight.

Who would complain?

Allen closed his eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of roses brought in by the wind through the open windows. The white curtains billowed inward, reaching toward him like arms wanting to embrace.

He felt the book slide off his lap as he got more comfortable, stretching out his legs and slumping lower in the chair.

The only sounds were the wind whispering through the windows, the grandfather clock in the parlor ticking, and the timid footsteps of...

Timid footsteps?

Allen snapped out of his trance, bolting upright and springing out of his chair. Who in heavens' name would be disturbing him here, at this time of night?

"Who..." The words caught in his throat, and he felt behind him for the chair, leaning on it for support.

A girl stood in the doorway of the study, barefoot and dressed in loose fitting pants and half a cotton shirt. Golden hair just touched her shoulders as she stared at him with wide cornflower blue eyes.

"C...Celena?"

* * *

Author's Note: Ok... so– what's the verdict? Like it?- Hate it? Don't care either way? Whichever it is, let me know. Please review :).

Review Responses:

Kou-Kagerou: Hey chic. Thanks for cutting and pasting your e-mail into a review lol. You must know how I like to look at my review stats ;). I'm so glad you like the chapter and that I'm still managing to keep you interested. I'm trying to mix up the Slayers POV and if I could go back, I'd toss in more Dallet and Guimel. Working on their one-shot, I find that I rather like those two. You'll see more of a variety of Slayer POV in chapters to come. Yes, I'm nearing the final 5...maybe even less than that. I can't believe I'm almost finished with this. Ha! I'm always glad to see Folken/Marie support, since I'm not a romance writer. I think it all sounds awkward coming from me, but I didn't plan it. Those to just started gravitated toward one another. Thanks for telling me it's working out well. He, he, he Allen probably would develop a phobia for feather quills if Folken had attacked him, then he'd be afraid of needles, quills, and ink ;). I really hope you enjoyed the action in this chapter since you've been wanting to see some. There is more action to come, I promise. Thank again for reviewing and cutting and pasting. Such effort should be praised! Oh let me know about the dates you'll be in town.

EbonysDove: Hey girl. Your review was for 26, but I think you were reviewing both chapters in one, so I'm gonna respond to you here. I'm glad you're still along for the ride. I thought I had took too long to update and had lost some people. No, I'll never let this story or Sodality for that matter go. In fact I'm working on finishing up this story so I can get to work on Sodality lol. It was a bit too much handling both stories at the same time. Thanks for reviewing chic and take care!

Strangedream: Hahahaha! Don't you hate trying to talk and sound coherent when you're sleepy. You know what you mean, but will anyone else? ;). Thanks for giving me a shout out though, and Folken and Marie appreciate your support. Obsession: cool beans:) I hope you enjoyed the new chapter!

Haruko: Eh, you know how you write something and you hate it? I always feel that way about everything I post for some reason. It just never sounds right to me, but oh well. We are our own worst critics. I'm glad you liked it, and look, this update didn't take nearly so long. I actually finished it a few days ago and held it until today. Haha! Success! You now like Allen-the matchmaker. He's fun, and I'm hoping you will still appreciate his humor; I'm kinda playing with his personality a bit. I agree with you; I do believe the series cut back on showing Van and Allen interaction. No, I will never abandon this and I will be updating more frequently, as you can already see :). Take care girl and thanks for reviewing!

Aurebec: Lol, no, I'll e-mail you if I die ;). It's not in this chapter, but the Slayers will have a gathering that I will document :) if you'd really like to see that. You know I can't overlook a bonding period as good as that ;). Van and Allen's scene was fun and I had no problem getting it out. That was probably the one scene that I finished and actually kept the same while the other parts of the chapter were manipulated or erased. This chapter was HARD, and then I had to make the decision of cutting out the main action I wanted to happen in it. Phew... Marie wants Folken to clean up his own mess at the end of their scene...but there was also something else that she was hinting around to as well ;). Yes, I'm setting the stage for the Destiny War. This wouldn't be Escaflowne without it :). Valeska must come back; she's too fun to leave out :P. And yes...the story is coming to a close, but I've still got like 4 or 5 more chapters to go. So glad ya liked the one shot. I'll go ahead and respond to you here, since you made it all one review. Since when is shopping only a girl sport lol, though Dilandau was embarrassed when they returned at the fact that they looked like women with all of those bags... I can't kill Dilandau off? Is that challenge? (looks evil) Muhahahaha! Take care and thanks for reviewing! Hope to hear from you again soon!

LadySnowBlood: I think your review goes for the chapter and one-shot as well. I already e-mailed you though and answered your question, but I'll go ahead and answer it again, if anyone else is curious and reading this. The story can be what you make it. It can be yaoi if you want it to be or not. I'm trying to put anything yaoi oriented in one-shots so readers who don't prefer yaoi can skip those and continue on with the story. Thanks for the review. I'm glad you caught back up with the story :) Take care!

Jhaylin: Hmm... Even if Folken told everyone about Dilandau, he'd have to face the consequences of Dilandau's reaction...er retaliation lol ;) and the fact that...maybe Dryden and the generals won't care. It is war after all, and everyone's out to save their own hides and look good doing it. Thanks for the review; I really appreciate your feedback and suggestions. Take care!

Koneri: I'm glad you liked the chapter. Sorry "If I Didn't Know Better" didn't entertain you as much as the "Chill Factor" I had more fun writing The Chill Factor, but I think my preferences goes toward If I Didn't Know.. . but now it's leaning more toward "The Bigger the Feet." Hope you'll check that one out too, when it's up. Thank you for reviewing! Take care!

Kate: Hmm..I think your review was for the chapter, but it's listed under the one-shot, so I'll go ahead and respond here. I'm not ending the story. I put "The End" at the end of all of the one-shots, because they are story shorts. Severed still has a few more chapters to go, before I can seal it. Thanks for the review! Take care!

Squizles: Hmmm... I think your review is for the one-shot too... but since you asked me to answer your question in the next chapter, here it is, lol! Ask and ye shall receive, I say...well, Bible say... Whatever. Uh... I never said Miguel was gay. In fact, he's against homosexual relationships for the most part. He doesn't scorn people for their preferences, but he doesn't approve either. So Miguel and Viole's relationship is brotherly. But hey, they would make a good couple if either could express those sort of feelings for the other ;). Thanks for your review and I hope you enjoyed the chapter!

Macky: Hey! I put Merle in just for you. I was writing the chapter and thought... I need to find a way to add Merle in and give her a big speaking part for Macky. Persistence pays off ;). I hope you liked it. Thanks for reviewing!

Nikku: Yeah, this chapter was very hard to write because of the depressing tone of it, and I had many false starts. The question of what the Slayers will do, is what they will all be asking themselves in chapters to come. They need a plan. Dilandau is very afraid of dying. I couldn't imagine a 15 year old accepting that fate well. In some of my false starts, I had him being a bit too resigned about it. No, Allen's blood hasn't been tested. He refused, and Folken won't apply force...but he just might ;). Hehehe, Folken was kinda stupid for going after glass with flesh instead of metal. Girl, yeah, Van's legs look like toothpicks! He's so skinny! Why do all animes make the characters so wiry lol? Yes, Dilandau fights lol, as you saw... Nothing's gonna keep him out of this war. I'm glad you liked the one-shot too. I'm not one for romance or writing dates, but this one was fun. I wanted the boy to enjoy themselves, but I had to keep reminding myself, Dilandau's only out with Van because he's hiding. Yup, Dilandau isn't a cheap...and maybe his purchases for his friends are parting gifts. He wants to leave them with something, or maybe he's apologizing ;). He'll talk to his Slayers and Folken... you'll see :). Thanks for reviewing and take care! I'll hear from you again soon, I'll bet ;).

Omnipotent Pyro: Hahahah, Shesta likes to refer to Dilandau using derogatory language. He'd never do it to his face though ;). Hmm...would I kill Dilandau off? I don't know... I'll flip a coin... (j/k) Dilandau's fate has already been decided. You'll see what I do. I'm glad you enjoyed Chapter 23 and I hope this one pleased you as well. Take care and thanks!

Skippyscat: Ha! Hey! So it's Friday and I'm posting, so you're finally going to read the whole chapter all together instead of in pieces. Does it still sound as good as you thought it had in those chunks? I hope so lol. I think I've answered every question you asked me and then some, but if you think I left anything unanswered, I'm sure you'll let me know! Thank you so much so reading over the chapters for me. I've told you this so many times, but I just don't think I can say it enough. Thank you for your feedback and the time you take to come up with your responses. You make writing more fun and much easier. Take care and I'll hear from you soon ;).


	28. OneShot 3: The Bigger The Feet

Author's Notes: Ok, so here it finally is, lol. _"A word of caution to this tale..."_ (quoting Hercules) this one-shot is very raunchy and vulgar and there may be some material that is inappropriate for younger readers. If any of what I listed offends you, please do not read this :).

Ok, all that said: please enjoy Dallet and Guimel's solo shot :)

Thank you to Cat who read over this for me:). Love ya!

* * *

Reviewer Responses:

Glass Angel: Thank you so much for reviewing "If I Didn't Know..." Glad you enjoyed it. I didn't get your review in time to put you in the response section for chapter 24. You sent the review while I was putting up the new chapter. How about that? I'm sorry :(. Thank you for your reviews, both of them :)

Kou-Kagerou: Hey Miss Lady, I already responded to you in e-mail lol, but you know I always have to give you a shout out to let you know how greatly appreciated you are. Thanks!

Strangedream: Hehehe, yes you must send me the rules to Rat Screw lol. The name alone interests me ;). I'm glad you liked "Van and Dilandau's Date" :). And I know you're tired of hearing this, but you'll just have to see what I've decided on for Dilandau. Thanks for reviewing!

Haruko: Well, Van may have had a problem with you dating his Dilandau-chan lol, but I'm sure you could take him ;). Folken playing spoons. You know, they'd probably make him unscrew that metal arm for safety and fairness reasons lol. Thanks for reviewing; I'm glad you liked "The Date" and maybe Van will find out about the health issue and get to offer a hug ;). Take care!

Jhaylin: Lol.! Lucky for Dilandau so much other stuff is going on, Folken might not be too mad about the tattoo...might not be, being the key phrase there ;). Take care girl and thanks for reviewing!

Pockettiefairy: Hehe, yes I'm alive and I'm glad you liked "The Date." Take care and enjoy this one-shot. Thanks for reviewing.

Kate: I think I already spoke to you in the chapter response lol, but no the story's not ending. I put "The End" on all the one-shots. Thanks for reviewing chic! Take care!

Squizles: Heh, I already answered you in chapter 24 too :). But I want to say thanks again! Take care!

Macky: Thanks! Glad you liked Merle ;). Take care!

Omnipotent Pyro: Hehehehe... I think Van's going to get more of a reaction to his new "do" than Dilandau ;). You'll se what I mean in Chapter 25. Thanks for reviewing girl; glad you liked it! I hope you enjoy this new one. Take care!

SkippysCat: Haha, I'm sure I've told you everything I think of somewhere between e-mails and chats. Can't say how much I appreciate you, and thank you for reading over this one before I posted it and got my face cracked by people telling me how bad it was :). Thank you!

* * *

**Severed One-Shots**

_#3. The bigger the feet..._

"Ugh, Guimel, you smell like... like Miguel," Dallet rubbed his nose, scowling at his heavily perfumed comrade.

Guimel grinned widely. "Hey, for some reason the ladies in Court flock to Miguel like he's some sort of god, and I figure it may be because of his distinct aroma. You know ladies are attracted to that pheromone shit and what not. Here, I swiped the bottle so you can rub some on too."

Dallet frowned at the palm sized glass bottle that was nearly half-empty. "Guy, how much did you use? Miguel's gonna have a cat if this was a new bottle."

Guimel shrugged, dusting imaginary lint off the quartered sleeve of his cotton shirt. "He has more; this was the only stuff that didn't smell like something floral. I'll just... put some water in the bottle; fill it back up to the top and screw the lid on real tight. He'll never know I opened his gift."

"Gift?" Dallet raised a brow. He sat on Guimel's rumpled bed, staring at his tow-headed friend, studying Miguel's cologne like it was the most interesting specimen on Gaea.

"Huh? Oh yeah," Guimel tossed the bottle in the air and caught it deftly in one hand. "It had a bow on it and everything. Said it was from an admirer. I thought, King Van, right away; maybe Miguel and Van are sweet on each other after all. But I don't know with the way the boy king's been sniffing after Lord Dilandau's ass. Every time I look up, he's staring at the kid. Wanted to laugh one day at how oblivious our dear Captain can be about certain things."

Dallet chuckled, lying back on the lumpy mattress and beating it a few times, trying to figure out what was pressing against his spine. "One day, he'll figure it out, or we'll tell him. How do you think he'll take to knowing?"

After struggling for a moment to get comfortable, Dallet finally gave up and flipped over, digging under the blankets to discover what those damn lumps were. His hands found a bundle of silk and lace and he tugged. "Guimel!"

"Wha?" Guimel had vanished into the depths of his closet, but poked his head out the door with his leather wallet between his teeth.

Dallet let a large pink brassiere dangle daintily from one pinky and a pair of silk bloomers perch on top of his head. "What the hell man? Your woman leave here commando?"

Guimel frowned, squinting at the lingerie and creeping closer to snatch the brassiere and inspect it up close. A slow blush spread over his face and he smiled sheepishly. "Ah... actually..."

"Actually what?" Guimel was blushing? Guimel didn't blush. "Spit it out, Guy!"

"They're souvenirs, you know?– from Molly. She sells em' sometimes, but she gave me those for free. She thinks I'm sweet."

Dallet blinked a few times, shaking the bloomers from his head and raking a hand through his long hair. Maybe it was time to lose the bangs; it had been so long since he'd seen his forehead he'd forgotten the shape of it. "Guy, give it up. That woman's not interested in kids. She's too..."

"Don't you dare say she's too much woman for me! I can handle anything anyone gives me to work with. I can.."

Dallet held up a silencing hand. "Enough."

Kami-sama, Guimel and his easily wounded manly pride. "I'm not questioning...your abilities, but you see the men Molly hangs around and takes to the back room. They always return to the bar looking... like they'd seen...everything. Like the knowledge of all things was transplanted into their minds or something. They change after that; they're different, you know? Sizing up all the women they meet after Molly like no one else can compare. You don't want that, Guimel. You don't want knowledge and wisdom; you just want attention and you'll take it from anywhere."

Guimel actually managed to pull off a hurt expression that Dallet wouldn't have purchased with half a copper cent. "Get off it, Guimel. You're easy, and you want easy women you won't have to think about for too long afterward."

Guimel opened his mouth to speak.

"Not saying there's anything wrong with that. My, well older guys, are always saying that certain women can change a man. I know my Dad was a different person before my nutty Mom turned him into a pansy. You want a change? I was under the impression that you liked things the way they were."

Dallet watched Guimel walk to his mirror and pull at his curly locks. They could get haircuts together. Maybe they'd do that tonight before they hit the bars. Guimel's hair had always been a bit on the bushy side, but it was just getting ridiculous now.

Hmm... how would he look with a close-cut.

It sure would be a horrible time to find out your head had a strange shape to it after you cut all your hair off.

There should be some kind of method to measure the size and contours of your head before you chose any hairstyle that might display it.

"I like things just fine, and one woman ain't gonna change me. I do believe you're underestimating me, Dally," Guimel snorted, flicking the curl he held away. "And just for that... we're going to have to make a bet tonight."

Dallet groaned, flopping back on the bed to find yet another hump, this time under his head, that he was sure wasn't a pillow. "Guimel, how do you explain the inhabitants of your bed to the maids."

Guimel chuckled. "Well some of it is their stuff. They usually come in and take it with little giggles and go on about their business."

Dallet rolled his eyes. "What about the kitchen boy's stuff–what's his name, Simon, Silas?- what do they say when he leaves his things behind?"

"Don't be silly Dally; Sam never leaves anything behind. He's done this before," Guimel snorted, sounding put out. "You know, I rather like Sam. If I were to ever settle down, I think he's one of my top candidates for settling down with. He's fun, sexy, quiet, and up to everything. Bet he'd come sailing with us. In fact, he knows how... I think he said his father owned a fishing boat once."

"What happened to it?"

"Eh, it like sank. No, seriously, something poked a big freakin' hole in the bottom and it's currently taking up residence at the bottom of the Astorian bay, or some weird shit like that."

Dallet snorted, wondering briefly if that was truly the story before frowning at Guimel. "Hey Guimel... Look, I don't have a problem with it at all, but isn't it a little weird... you know? You trying it with guys and all? I mean, you're not gay, you're just..."

Guimel shooed Dallet off the bed and whipped back his covers, frowning at the flat-heeled shoe that sat before one of his pillows. "How did a shoe get there? I always tell people to take their damn shoes off before they get in my bed." He swatted the shoe off with the back of his hand and went on to smooth his rumpled bed sheets, probably checking for more foreign items. "I don't know, Dally. I don't think it's weird, and no, I'm not gay just curious.. I mean, do you ever wonder?"

Dallet's frown deepened as he pondered it. "Well...no. I don't think so, at least. When did you start wondering, Guy?"

Guimel shrugged, plopping down on his bed. "I don't know. I think it was Sam winking at me and stuff; he took me aside and propositioned me."

"What? When?" Dallet stared, trying to recall a time Sam had pulled his friend aside. Guimel had to have been drunk, and Dallet always made sure to take special care in watching Guimel when he was wasted. He'd stopped many a rotten love affair that Guimel was no wiser for.

"Uh...I don't know. I was shit face drunk though," Guimel waved a hand, "and it seemed like a good idea at the time. We played around and– I don't know– it was different. Sam's real cool; someone I could hang with for a while, which is why I say I could settle down with him."

Dallet snorted. "Well according to that, you could just as well settle down with me, Guy."

"Eh, you're lousy housekeeper, and you cook worse than Viole and Miguel put together; that's pretty damn bad. Those fools can't tell a skillet from a pot."

"Nobles." They shook their heads together.

"So anyways, you don't think you're– like– attracted to Sam?" Dallet pushed and Guimel shook his head.

"I don't think so; it's like... I don't feel the urge around him like I do around Patsy or Claudia, but he's fun."

"The urge, huh? Hey, you think Van gets the urge around Lord Dilandau?"

Guimel raised both brows. "I doubt he even knows what the urge is. In fact..." Guimel propped his hands behind his head. "...maybe those two are perfect for each other. Neither knows what they're doing; they can do that romantic junk girls are always talking about...you know, learn together."

Dallet chuckled. Lord Dilandau as a romantic was somewhat hard to swallow.

"Hey, don't underestimate our captain, Dallet. I've seen him play the guys he's caught looking at him. He knows what to do; he just doesn't know what to do it for..."

Dallet threw a pillow at Guimel. "Miguel would put a sword up your ass for that."

"I'm not scared of Miguel," Guimel chortled. "Just cause he doesn't know what to do or what to do it for..."

Dallet hooted. "Ai, Miguel and the art of seduction. Hah!"

"So..." Guimel sat up suddenly, rubbing his palms together. "What about our bet?"

"Bet?" Dallet frowned.

"Yeah...ah... geez... Oh yeah, Molly Big Breast will lay me tonight and I'll come out same as ever, 10 pieces."

Dallet whistled. Ten pieces? Did Guimel think Dallet was made of currency?– but then if he didn't accept the gamble on those grounds, Guimel would think Dallet supported the idea of Guimel being the all-mighty female wooer.

He'd never hear the end of it, and Guimel had to know it.

Rat bastard.

"What do ya say, Dally? You in? If you are, you gotta show me the money up front. I saw how clean your wallet was looking after you played crabs with Kio last night."

Dallet ruffled at that. That was a direct insult to his character. "You know I'd never stiff anybody!"

"Yeah, I know, but I need ten pieces and I don't wanna be counting on you to scrounge it up, when I could be concentrating on getting it elsewhere."

"What do you need a ten for?" Dallet was curious. Guimel was never short of money, mainly because of all the stupid bets he'd make and somehow win.

"Ah... I kinda..." Guimel looked at his hands, twiddling his thumbs for a moment. Dallet frowned; Guimel seemed nervous.

Nothing short of a funeral could take away Guimel's smug air.

Nothing short of a funeral.

"You know that place, that nice place that sells those girly shirts that Miguel loves so well? Well they have these really nice breeches. I saw them in the window when we were passing through town the other day. Remember them?"

Dallet thought back to the day before. He and Guimel had gone a lot of places. They weren't the kind to sit still and stay in one place for long. In fact, they'd been looking for a game of dice rumored to be played in one of the alleys beside the ritzy stores, infamous for all the rich suckers that could be swindled out of their pocketbooks.

Hmm... did Dallet remember any of the nice stores catching Guimel's attention?

"Uh...were they...?"

"Silver kinda, with loops for a leather belt," Guimel said with a sigh.

"And you want those?" Guimel in expensive breeches, that would be the day. Where was he planning on wearing them to? "Going to dinner with Miguel, Guy?"

Guimel's eyes widened, and Dallet was struck by the serious glint in them before it faded, the light blue orbs regaining their usual glow of good humor. "Nah. They wouldn't be for me, Dally. I'd be getting them for Lord Dilandau."

Lord Dilandau?

"But he has..."

"They don't fit anymore, and I want him to have something new. It's been a good minute, since Lord Dilandau's had anything new."

He hadn't wanted anything.

Tailors came to take requests, and Lord Dilandau never had any to make.

"So you're saving up?"

"Yeah. While you were looking at watches, I went in and asked the price. I almost fell over right there, but you know... only the best for him. So I told the man in the shop to hold them, but I don't know how long he'll do that for me. Maybe I should have told them who they were for."

"Maybe." Dallet rubbed his chin, studying Guimel. Why hadn't he told Dallet what he intended to do, and why was he still talking like he didn't plan to involve Dallet with his plans. Dallet could help; he could chip in.

He wanted to give Lord Dilandau something he'd like too.

"Hey, hey, I know what you're thinking, Dally. Get your own idea of something to get him, man. He deserves that, you know? What's a few months stipends a piece for our Lord Dilandau? Why don't you get him some lounging clothes? He doesn't have any of those, and..."

They both frowned.

"You can tell him it's sleep wear," Guimel suggested lightly. "He might believe it."

Dallet sighed. "Yeah, he might, but you're right. He doesn't have anything for the days when he's...tired. I'll go to that silk store next to the barbershop– Hey, Guimel? What do you say about getting haircuts?"

"You know someone who can do a decent job for free?" Guimel snorted and Dallet hummed as he thought.

He knew some soldiers that claimed to cut hair...but Dallet had seen some fruits of their labor and decided to pass.

"Nope."

"Then no cuts; we're saving. Remember?"

Yeah, they were saving.

"So you got 10 up front or what, man?"

"You're still on about that bet?" Dallet touched his knees and stared at Guimel.

Guimel slid off his bed and stretched, popping his back and his neck in one movement. Dallet was always amazed at Guimel's ability to do that without hurting himself. "Of course man. I've got it in the bag, and I need 10 pieces. If you got it, I'll take it from ya."

"You're that sure you'll win?"

"Hey, by your reluctance, I'm assuming you're sure I'll win too. Eh, Dally?" Guimel tossed a look over his shoulder, winking at Dallet in a way that got his competitive blood flowing.

Dallet had known Guimel was going to use this line of attack and though he should have been prepared... nothing could stop the surge of testosterone fueling his desire for victory.

"I don't think you'll win anything, Guimel. In fact, I bet your pansy ass will come crawling out of that back room crying for mommy. I bet you'll get in there and forget what to do."

"So... you've got 10?"

"I've got 15!"

"Well then, Dally, you're on!"

Guimel was shaking his hand before Dallet realized what he'd done. Did he just gamble all of his money?

Dammit!

"Come on! Lets get out of here before all the good beer's gone and everyone's too drunk to offer a decent game of pity– pat!"

* * *

Molly had been making eyes at him all night. After midnight the Joe's Tavern ceased being a bar and became a game room. All tables were pushed to the back where games of Black Jack, poker, pity-pat, Jim Rummy, Spades, dice, and anything else Guimel could think of trying his hand at where played. The gas lanterns were taken from the windows and set around the tables to illuminate the games. Bar attendants flitted to and fro, offering beer and nuts to paying customers.

Guimel nursed his ale and kept an eye on the table, wary of sticky-fingers. When men got desperate they did crazy things, like slipping earnings off the table and back into their pockets. The only times Guimel felt secure enough not to keep at least one eye on his prizes was when Lord Dilandau played.

He'd come up with some very creative ways to persuade potential thieves to keep their hands to themselves, that is, if they liked having hands.

Guimel had thought Lord Dilandau's antics would scare other soldiers away like they had on the Vione, but instead Astorian troops laughed and clapped him on the back.

"'Silver Boss was alright."'

"'Sit here, Silver Kid."'

Maybe it was because most of these men were inherently honest, so they had nothing to fear from Lord Dilandau, unlike the men of Zaibach.

Gods... what had that said about them, then?

"Play or fold, boy?"

Guimel threw down another copper cent. "Play."

The thick butt of a musky cigar was passed to him over his shoulder, and Guimel took a slow drag, blowing out rich flavored smoke and licking his lips. Tasted like lipstick.

A tall, slim glass of red wine was placed in front of Guimel, and he turned, face enveloped in two fatty pallets of female mammary gland. He fought the urge to moan in pleasure and inhaled the sweet scent of apples that marked Molly's proximity.

There were crows from around the table and Guimel felt the vibration of someone stomping their feet through his boots. "Little birdie told me you want to be a man, Guy."

"Hm..hm..."

Hm...hm? What the hell was wrong with his mouth? Speak, damn you! Brain, come up with something witty for the mouth to say! Impress Molly, dammit!

"To be a man, you gotta pass tests."

"Oh yeah?"

Oh yeah? You can do better than that brain; Dallet's watching, probably laughing his ass off right now at me!

"You been to class, I hear, but those tests are kinda hard. I'm thinking maybe you need a tutor."

Her breath was warm and fruity. Kami-sama, she smelled like a fruit pie, a tart, and little Guy was getting hungry. "I'm a bad student, Mol, real bad. I'm gonna need all the help I can get. But I don't have much money; how can I pay ya, doll?"

That's better. There we go... Guimel spared a glance at Dallet, wanting to laugh at the way his friend's mouth scraped the table. He was drooling on his chips.

Better luck next time, Dally. I'm gonna be leaving this card game early, but I'll have your 10 pieces to make up for all the earnings I'm deserting. He winked.

"Don't you worry about money, Guy. Boys need to learn their lessons; we need more men in the world to make things go round. Why don't you come on back to my room. I keep my books back there."

Books...right. Guimel grinned, standing up and hissing at little Guy to be patient.

Molly was a classy dame; she walked real dainty giving a little twist at the waist. Guimel watched her hips roll from side to side as he followed her, playing the good pupil. They reached the door, marked "Keep Out," and Molly opened it, giving Guimel a sexy smirk and sashayed through, curling a single finger at him, beckoning him to come.

Guimel tried not to skip after her. This was going to be so good. Sex with a professional and 10 pieces. How much better could this night get?

There were in a narrow hallway facing a row of 4 doors. Geez, did Joe, Bess, Molly, Jas, and Paulie all live here?

Molly chose the door furthest to the left, taking Guimel by the collar and throwing him into the room before her and ravaging him. Guimel hadn't the chance to gasp at her attack. Whoa...whoa... he'd never had a woman be so forward.

Molly's nails were long and sharp, and they scratched his scalp as they raked through his hair. It hurt, but the pain Guimel could live with. He was forced back until he ran into something soft; he fell backward, arms flailing for support. He relaxed when he realized he must be on her bed. It was soft... too soft... and he sank into the mattress, groaning as Molly's weight crushed down upon him.

She sat back, blond hair wild and curly about her face. Amazing, Guimel stared up at her, her lipstick hadn't smeared... Her fantastic chest heaved as she bared her perfect white teeth at him and suddenly, she reached for him, ripping at his shirt. Buttons flew every which way and Guimel wondered how he was going to explain the mishap on the way home if anyone saw him. Down she went, biting and tasting his nipples. He moaned...

Patience Little Guy.

She slid down, unbuckling his belt and working the zipper of his pants. Soon he was naked as the day he was born...but she was still fully clothed.

He had to fix that...

Oh yeah, he had to fix that.

Guimel reached a hand toward her bodice, but she beat him to it, pulling at the already loosened strings. Guimel felt tears springing to his eyes at the beauty of what he was seeing. Sheila had nothing on this; Claudia didn't compare... Roxy, hah! Forget Roxy...

This was Molly.

Off came the dress in one single tug over her head, and there Guimel was with the gorgeous woman of every man's desire perched on his chest in nothing but her bloomers, ready to roar.

She fell upon him again, kissing and sampling, scratching at his chest, back, neck, thighs... Little Guy...well he wasn't so little anymore...

He was excited; Guimel was excited...

Off with the bloomers; rip them off... I'll rip them off! Guimel grabbed for the panties, surprised that she'd let him; she hadn't let him really do anything. Molly was always in control. She was teaching him.

"That's it, baby. Go on, tell teacher the answer..." Molly was purring.

Gods... Guimel had never enjoyed study hours or doing homework, or lectures...but this class period, this lecture...with this teacher, he was making an exception.

He pulled hard, feeling the fabric tear in his hands, and he looked...

He looked...

He saw...

"AAAAAAH! WHAT IN THE HOLY HELL IS THAT! MY GODS!"

* * *

Dallet sat at the card table, unable to pay attention to his hand. He'd lost all but the 10 pieces he was gonna owe Guimel. Gods, Molly had walked right up to him and propositioned him. Usually the guys went to her and begged and pleaded.

Guimel wouldn't do that, so Dallet had been sure he'd win, but apparently, Guimel had been doing some work on the sly to tempt Molly's interest.

"Get your mind out of that room back there and back on the game, Dally. You owe us a better game than that," Reeden said, shoving some of Dallet's money back at him. "Give the kid a do over, man."

Dallet offered the man a weak smile and waved at the men around the table, shaking his head. "Nah, I can't accept that. I lost guys, fair and simple. I'm out. I can't concentrate on this anyway. I just... well..."

"You wanna know how that buddy of yours got in back there?" a burly man that answered to the name of Ryo rasped.

"Well...yeah." Dallet scratched his head. He was curious. He'd been with Guimel all night. How had he played the game without Dallet noticing?

"Told us all about that bet," Ryo chuckled, "so's I put in a world with Jas, and she got to Molly."

Dallet raised a brow. The bet. Yeah, Dallet had said something about it, about Guimel not winning. "You helped me lose to him?"

"What makes you so sure you'll lose?" Ryo laughed, slapping the table and taking a deep swallow of beer. Slamming his now empty mug back on the table. "You ain't ever been with Molly, son. I been with Molly."

"Yeah, me...me too," Big Tom hiccuped.

"Ol' Guy's so sure of himself; he thinks he knows, but no one ever do, until they been with Molly."

Dallet frowned. "Is she that good?"

Everyone always looked so... strange...once they returned from her bed. Guimel said he wouldn't look strange, that he wouldn't be changed.

"Dally, you ever hear the phrase said about certain people?– 'the bigger the feet, the bigger the...'"

The table erupted into raucous laughter before Ryo could finish. The big man could hardly contain himself.

"No, no I haven't heard it! The bigger the feet, the bigger the what? Tell me!" Dallet frowned at the roaring men. He wanted to be let in on the joke too. He didn't like being left out. The bigger the feet, what? Molly had big feet? He'd never noticed he was so busy staring at her rack. So what if she had big feet? Could it mean...

His head whipped toward the back room at the sound of voice raised in...

Terror?

Guimel?

The table quieted briefly, all attention diverted to service door, then at once the men were falling all over themselves laughing again.

"What? What's so funny?" Dallet was rising, ready to run to Guimel's aid. Gods, he sounded petrified. What in the world was going on back there?

The service door was flung open, and Guimel stood in the doorway, shirt torn to his waist, pants unzipped, boots in hand, huffing and wild. Quickly, he closed the door behind him, rushing to the table and throwing himself down beside Dallet, dropping his boots to grab Dallet's drink. He downed the near full mug in one gulp and the other men were quick to push their ale toward him.

Guimel wasted no time emptying those mugs as well.

"Guy, Guy what's wrong?" Dallet demanded. He was going to make himself sick! Dallet tried to take one of the beers away, and Guimel looked at him, blue eyes dark with horror and Dallet released the mug.

"Guimel, what..."

"Leave him alone, Dally and let him drink. He needs it, be...believe me," Tom belched, passing Guimel his own personal flask of hard liquor.

Dallet grimaced, watching Guimel toss back the brew, slapping the tin flask down when he was through, gasping at the burn Dallet could imagine he felt at the alcohol burning his throat as it went down. "Guy, what's wrong? Tell me what happened?"

"She..." Guimel was speaking. He stared at Dallet, blond curls getting in his eyes as he leaned forward to take his hands. Shaking... his hands were shaking.

"Dally, she... had both. Both! She had... Everything... Both, I tell you!"

She had both? Molly had both?– of what?

Ryo laughed hard. "You see it all, Guy?"

"Both...tits...and... both..."

"What the hell is going on? What are you talking about Guy?–What's he talking about guys?" Dallet was desperate. Something was wrong with his friend. He was in shock or something and everyone in the tavern was joking around like it was nothing to be worried about.

"What the hell happens back in that room with Molly?"

"Dally... that phrase... 'the bigger the feet, the bigger the..."

"Shaft..." Guimel finished. "The bigger the nuts! The penis! She has BOTH! She.. He... It!"

Dallet stared. Molly was... Dallet had heard of that before, but he'd always thought someone had made it up. Molly... and Guimel...

Dallet nearly fell out of his chair at a serious case of the "ha ha's" overcame him. The other soldiers guffawed right alone with him, ignoring Guimel's desperate pleas for them to stop.

Oh gods...oh Kami-sama... Dallet couldn't breathe... he was going to suffocate. Ai... He looked at Guimel through teary eyes, holding his head in his hands... Poor baby...

Dallet patted himself, looking for his coin purse and the 10 pieces he'd reserved for Guimel when he won the bet. Dallet located the money, pulling it out of his pocket and sliding it over to Guimel.

Guimel raised his head from his hands at the sound of the change sliding toward him. He looked down at the offering, frowning at Dallet. "Dallet, you won. She... I... you won, man. Why are you giving this to me?"

Dallet shook his head, giggles escaping his lips that he tried to stifle behind his hand. "It's uh...it's to pay your tutor, man. I don't think she charged you enough for what she showed you. Go on and take it to her Guy."

Guimel glared, swinging at Dallet, but Dallet had long fallen from his seat onto the floor, rolling in hopeless hysterics.

He laughed until it hurt and then some, and in the background, he heard the men starting up a catchy limerick, stomping their feet and clapping their hands. Dallet didn't know the song, but when a familiar line came around, he was able to join in, singing louder than anyone.

_Looking for a treat_

_Ol' Molly does the trick_

_But... _

_The bigger the feet... _

_The larger the..._

* * *

The End

* * *

Author's Note: I told you guys it was raunchy! So...what's the verdict? Like it?-Hate it?-Don't care either way? Let me know. Please review:) 


	29. Chapter 25

Author's Note: Ok, so here's another big chapter. It's 26 pages, so don't try to read it all in one sitting lol. Sorry about the delay. I meant to have it out sooner, but my laptop's hard drive decided to mutiny and I was without my baby for two weeks :(. I hope you guys like the chapter. It's one of the big climaxes in the story. Yeah, I know, stories are only supposed to have one climax, but bear with me, I'm eccentric lol.

Thanks forever to Cat who reads over this junk before I post it. Love ya!

Reviewer Responses:

Gadget 15: Hey girl. So glad you like the story, and as I told you in the e-mail I sent, feel free to ask me anything you want. I love e-mails and questions :). Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Jhaylin: Lol, a Valeska fan. I didn't think anyone was really going to like her, and it makes me smile whenever someone says that they do. Thanks a lot :). Thanks for reviewing, glad you're still enjoying the story and the face offs. Take care!

Pocketfirefairy: Oooh... begging and pleading is very flattering. I'll keep you in mind while I decide Dilandau's fate (imagine thunderous roars of wicked laughter and lightning. Muhahahahhaaa!) Blinks innocently So, anyways, take care. Teehee! Lol! Thanks for reviewing chic!

Ryo19:) I like being called original, though I doubt I quite deserve that, but thanks. It really means a lot! Take care and I hope to hear from you again.

Nikku: Hey friend. I keep forgetting to go to the bookstore and check for the new Battle Royale. It may be out already and I could be biting my nails reading it. Belated review, whatever lol! I never care when they get here; love them just the same ;). I'm glad you liked Guimel and Dallet's scenes. I find I really like using them. They amuse me and I have neglected them. I won't do so in the future ;). Aww...you didn't like poor Van until now? He's crying... maybe Dilandau will hold him. (Snorts: yeah right, lol!) Hehehe, I'm hoping I'm offending any Hitomi fans with my portrayals of her and how the other characters perceptions of her. Sigh...I just don't like her. Shakes head but I don't want it to show...too much ;). Dude, you pull things up from way back. Dilandau and Viole did bond more in Miguel's absence aboard the Vione. I forgot lol! Valeska's very glad you hate her. Makes her feel good, and makes me feel like I'm actually writing a decent bad guy for once. Geez...and I'm glad these action sequences are going over well. I think this is the first story I've ever written where I used so many and made them longer than a paragraph or two. Thank you so much for reading this story and mulling things over and coming up with such wonderful things to say that make me thing of things to improve and ways to grow. I hope you enjoy the new chapter and that school is going well. Take care!

Kitty99: Thanks for reviewing. I'm glad you do! Take care!

Kou-Kagerou: Hey chic! Guimel's been living a healthy night-life, day-life, etc, lol. His bed's never cold and never empty. Folken fainting may have caused an interesting scene actually lol...you're making me regret he didn't, muhahahaha! Folken and Dilandau's argument was a long time coming. I was going to have Dilandau just slip out or be more subdued, but when I actually got to the part, Dilandau exploded. I just watched lol. I guess you're right, before he was always too tired and he chose to pick his battles. Folken knew best then... but now, he doesn't care. Ha! Note to self, need part with other soldiers teasing Van for being fruity. Maybe it will be in coming one-shot. I'm no big Merle fan either, so I'm glad the scene worked well for ya :). Hehehe, I think I'll have do something with Viole revealing a few stories about his sisters. His compassion didn't come from those heiffas lol! He has seven sisters and he refers to them as the Seven Deadly Sins, and he has unflattering nicknames for all of them. Yeah, I got too much time on my hands. Hahaha love your interpretation of the Dil/Valeska altercation. I like your better in fact! Thanks for reviewing, even when you don't have to because you've e-mailed your comments. I really appreciate all the advice you give that adds so much to this story. I hope you got home safely and keep working on that beautiful artwork, girl! Take care!

Squizles: Lol! Well I do feel honored :). Thank you. Yes, Viole and Dilandau are close, they have a lot in common :). Guimel is a ham, and I love working with him. I'm glad he brightened things up a bit for you. Dilandau is losing a lot of weight, mostly because he doesn't have much of an appetite anymore. Oooh... lack of Viole in stories is never good lol! I probably overuse him. No, no, it's impossible to bore me with a review ;) lol. Talk as much as you want, I love to read. I hope you enjoy the new chapter and thanks for reviewing. Take care!

Strangedream: Lol, I sometimes rush through stories too, to get to my favorite characters :). Glad you liked the Merle part. She's terra incognita for me, so thank you for letting me know you enjoyed it. Hehehehe... Unfortunately, Hitomi can't just be gone...sigh. I'm following the anime just enough to need her to help destroy the emperor's stupid destiny machine lol. Eh, your line of thought is the same line of thought I had during the anime watching Hitomi cry...over everything. Was there an episode where she didn't burst into tears? Sorry Hitomi fans, don't read this, disregard that, I have no malice toward Hitomi :). You know...you are very right, Dilandau can't die without exacting his revenge ;). And as for the Celena/Valeska conflict, you'll see :). I hope you enjoy the new chapter girl, and take care! Thanks for reviewing!

Macky: Hey. I put Merle in there just for you lol. I was writing it thinking, oh man...what if Macky doesn't like it? Lol, I'm glad you did. Oh man...Merle would so kill Guimel lol. Thanks for reviewing! Take care.

Omnipotent Pyro: You have one of the only pen names that doesn't make my spell check go nuts with the red squiggly lines! Lol! Thank you, thank you for complimenting the battle scenes. I told someone before, I've never really done them before until this story and I'm never very confident about them. Gasp... did you just refer to my words as "cheap"... I sound like a bad "horror flick?" Why... you... Wonderful person. Thank you. Lol! I'm flattered. I like cheap horror flicks, they're funny as heck to watch after midnight. I don't know if this chapter ends in much of a cliffhanger, but I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reviewing and take care!

Haruko: Ha! Someone else likes Dallet's ADHD POV. He was difficult to grasp, and I don't know if I'll ever do an extended scene in his voice, but it was different. I did enjoy it. Aww... sorry about the showdown between Dil and Val being so short. Maybe they'll have another face off that'll be longer in the future ;) ;) ;). Glad you liked the interaction. That may have been the hardest part of the chapter, because things are starting to get so depressing. My fault entirely (grins evilly lol!). Hehehe, I'm happy you liked Merle. I'm no big fan of hers or Hitomi's and I always feel bad, because it does show, and I don't want to turn anyone off. Just let me know when I overdo it :). Thank you so much for reviewing and take care! I hope you enjoy the new chapter.

Skippys Cat: Hey chic, I think everything in this review we have talked about over and over again and more lol. You're so much fun to talk to, and you give me so many ideas. If this story is finished this summer, it's because you pushed me. You always know just what to say to make me want to write more just so I can send it along to you for your approval. I know I said I would post this early Friday afternoon, but I ended up getting called into work this morning and I stayed until 11 pm. I work Saturday morning too, but just like I told you Thursday, I will be starting the new chapter. Thank you so much for being my beta and just being my buddy :). Love ya lots! Take care and I'll talk to you later and probably be e-mailing you lots of new things to look over in the near future lol.

* * *

Chapter 25

He was a robed journeyman, traveling over the vast desert of hardwood floors in search of...

Well, Dilandau didn't know what exactly he was in search of, but he was sure his dream self did. The map of the land was marked with many small tables covered in lace with fine china, vases or flowers as centerpieces. He skillfully avoided potted plants and other decorative trinkets in the darkness, letting him know that this journey was no novel experience... not for his dream self, anyway.

From the angle in which Dilandau was seeing the world, everything seemed so big and tall as it loomed over him, he was probably no more than 3 feet tall.

So he was in Celena again and that would make this a memory wouldn't it?– not a dream. Dilandau would like to think so. He wanted to believe he was remembering a true past that could give him an identity other than: Science Project Gone Horribly Wrong, or rather gone horribly right in the eyes of the Madoushi.

Celena had said Dilandau was her brother, and dammit, Dilandau believed her. Why would she claim something like him, if there was no truth in the statement? He had been a part of her life, before Zaibach interfered.

He'd had a family... Sort of.

Celena's little feet were bare, and the wood was cold under the soles of her feet, hurrying her steps. Where was she going?

He listened for her voice. She always spoke to herself or to him... Dilandau had long started assuming the person whom Celena addressed in these memories was himself, though he couldn't talk back to her... and he never heard any other responses from... well, his past self. Maybe he couldn't hear his own thoughts. Perhaps, Dilandau was displacing his younger image.

He didn't know, and he usually didn't care. It was trivial as his main objectives were to gather as many clues as he could about his and Celena's background and to... be near Mother.

The elegant woman that smelled of roses.

Celena didn't like to be held or kissed or tickled, but she had endured it... and Dilandau knew on some level it was for his benefit.

He liked it.

Where was Celena now? She stopped in front of a closed door, and her chubby little hand rose to turn the knob and push the door open. The room was heavy with shadow but the open window let in a soft wash of moonlight that fell upon the graceful form that laid like a wilted lily on a large bed, shielded by soft blankets. Careful feet plodded to the edge of the bed, tugging at the covers insistently.

"Momma." Celena's voice was soft and unsure, atypical for the bold and rather rude noises that usually flavored her speaking voice. Why did she sound so different?

Celena, where are you?

He still heard no voice, no thoughts... but he felt... in the distance, in the back of his mind, her presence. She was calm, at peace... she was asleep.

Dilandau had never entered her world while she was sleeping. How was she moving? The world around them was too clear for it to be one of her dreams. In fact, the environment was clearer than it had ever been for him. It was like... like he was seeing out of his own eyes, not hers. The second sight always made everything so fuzzy.

It was cold, the thin blanket he'd draped over himself to keep the monsters from nipping at him as he ran across the house didn't do as good of job at keeping the chill out. Monsters?

He blinked. Dilandau didn't believe in monsters; well at least not the black-eyed, long fanged ones his mind was suddenly conjuring up images of, and he'd certainly never believe a stupid blanket could keep those things away. The logic was all wrong, skewed and babyish like...a child's.

A child just leaving the stages of being a toddler and trying to establish himself as something more, but there were still monsters.

Dilandau chewed his lip. Could that have been him? Had he believed in monsters under the bed that nipped at dangling toes?

How silly of me.

"Momma!"

More insistent. He tried to crawl onto the bed, but it was just too high! The curses of being short! Dilandau could feel something building inside him, starting from his belly, expanding into his chest, and welling behind his eyes.

God goods, he was about to cry.

But then...

Soft hands clasped his wrists and he was pulled up onto the soft feather bed and deposited on his bottom with soft thump. Bloomers... how humiliating.

Tender fingers tickled his middle and he looked into the loving face of... Momma. Gods, he could see her! Even in the dark with only the moon to light her features, this was the best vision of her he'd ever had, and she was so beautiful.

Her hair was free of its eternal bun and fell in soft, pale curls around her angelic face. Her cheekbones were high, her chin was small, the mold of her face thin and angular at just the right proportion to keep it gentle and so regal. It was... He reached out to stroke her face, surprised at the hand that obeyed his wishes.

He couldn't control the memories, but this one, this time, he had...

And the hand that touched her, it was not Celena's.

The hand was slender and pale, the nails oval and gleaming from meticulous care. It was his hand, and hers, Momma's, had come to cover it, her smooth fingers caressing his. Gods... the shape of their hands... the way the nails were made... were the same.

Not like Celena's hands at all. Her hands were rough and grubby, the fingers stubby and manlike. Her nails had been chewed and ragged, and though Dilandau might have attributed all of that to the fact that she was a child... the shape of them was all wrong.

Even older, Celena's hands would not have matched Momma's like his did now. He frowned softly, gasping lightly as the pads of her thumb brushed his lower lip.

"Don't pout."

Dilandau blinked, staring at her. Momma was looking at him, _directly_ at him. This had never happened before, but then he'd never manipulated the dreams before. Was he controlling Momma as well?

"No."

"I'm not?" he whispered. She'd heard his thought?

"Not at all." She'd heard his voice.

"I've been waiting for you."

* * *

Miguel bit his lip on a hiss of pain, holding still as Dr. Marie finished wrapping his ribcage. She patted his back lightly when she was done. "That too tight?"

Miguel shook his head negatively then grunted in both pain and surprise, when the doctor pulled the bandages tighter and bound them. He glared at her as she dimpled and instructed him to put his arms down.

"You just better hope you didn't crack one of those bad boys," Dr. Marie said, tapping his nose and running a hand through his hair. "Honestly, you kids and your awful tendencies to walk around half dead. Were you going to sleep on those ribs?"

Miguel shrugged, stretching cautiously and moaning at the stab of pain in his torso. Dr. Marie gave a heavy sigh, placing her elbows on the examining table, leaning on

them, and looking up at Miguel, she asked, "I don't suppose you'd want anything for the pain?"

"No."

"Didn't think so." Marie rolled her eyes. "What is it about you boys? Why do you punish yourselves? I mean, what is so intriguing about pain? When I experience it, I want it to stop, and I do things to avoid it."

"Are you talking about all of us, or just Lord Dilandau?" Miguel carefully slid off the table and collected his shirt that was draped over the back of Marie's chair. Good thing he'd worn a button up under his overcoat this time.

"All of you," Marie muttered, "but him especially. Stupid kid."

Miguel had to agree. Lord Dilandau's choices when it came to himself were usually a bit half-baked, but Miguel couldn't stop him... wouldn't stop him. Lord Dilandau needed to be assured that his men were still behind him, that he still had their support.

If they second guessed his judgment, Miguel hated to think about... how it would make him feel– gods, not what he'd do, but how it would hurt him.

"He's so..."

"... fragile," Marie finished for Miguel. "Dilandau likes to think he can't break, but he can and he will, if he doesn't stop being so stubborn. No, that's not the word." Marie stroked her chin as she scoured her vocabulary. "Proud– that's what I'm looking for. Boys and their pride, the source of gray hair and frustrated women everywhere."

"You've got gray hair?" Miguel asked absently as he buttoned his shirt. "Hadn't noticed."

Marie snorted, stopping his hands short of their task. "You missed some buttons." Miguel held still as the red head undid the buttons of his shirt and started over for him. He was too tired to care that he was old enough to dress himself properly and didn't need a woman's help.

He wanted to lie down and sleep until the war was over, and when he opened his eyes, everything would be as it was before. Lord Dilandau would be all right, and with that would come order to the chaos that had become Miguel's world as of late.

Lord Dilandau would be all right.

Folken said so. He'd said... he'd told them...

"Dr. Marie?"

"Hmm?" She finished with his shirt and straightened the cottony fabric.

"Did you know that Lord Dilandau had a sister? Did he tell you?" Why didn't he tell us? He let us go on about our pasts, smiling and nodding, living through us... or so we thought.

We thought... I thought we were his past, present and future. We were his family; he had no one else but us.

But that wasn't true.

It was never true.

Folken told them Lord Dilandau had a sister, a twin sister, and that they had to find her. She was here, in Astoria somewhere, and she was Lord Dilandau's last chance, his only hope as well as theirs. An hour after they'd returned from battle, an hour after Folken had taken Lord Dilandau away, the solemn man had come out to tell them they still had a shot.

The Dragonslayers' new mission was to find the girl, this Celena that undoubtedly shared the same blood type as Lord Dilandau and hopefully the same marrow.

Kami-sama, be the same!

Folken couldn't tell them what she looked like. No one, aside from Lord Dilandau, had ever seen her, but... Viole had taken Lord Dilandau's art book. Maybe he'd drawn her. There were so many pictures of houses and gardens, outlines of tall boys, men, but only one drawing of a woman, much too old to be Lord Dilandau's twin, but it was something to go on. They'd left yesterday.

Gatty had made Miguel stay behind to look after Lord Dilandau.

He'd probably seen the way Miguel had been favoring his right side. Stupid. His team needed all the manpower they could get to cover the land and Miguel just had to get himself damaged.

"Dilandau's never told me anything about himself. I get everything I need to know from Folken when he deems it necessary."

Marie's bitter voice reeled Miguel back into the realm of reality. He sympathized with the doctor, knowing the feeling.

"Lord Dilandau and Lord Folken have a lot in common."

"Yeah, they're both infuriating assholes."

Miguel bit his cheek on a laugh, but did nod his head in agreement. "Though, I wasn't quite thinking along those lines."

"What? More vulgar? Well, what can I say, the creative vocabulary of young boys is much different from my own. I imagine you've heard some quite interesting language down in the Boiler Room."

Miguel blushed. "What do you know about that?"

Marie snorted. "Pearce and I go down there on occasion."

Miguel stared incredulously. A woman in the Soldier's Get Away?– A woman and Pearce? "Oh, get over yourself. I've got to get out of this lab sometime, and it's not like Folken's asking me out on any..."

She trailed off, brushing imaginary lint from Miguel's shirt. "So, we were talking about Folken and Dilandau... What do you think they have in common?"

Miguel chuckled at how quickly the doctor changed the subject and decided to let it drop, an art he'd perfected over the past few weeks. He eased himself back onto the examining table, gasping slightly as his ribs protested the movement. "Shit..."

"I wish you'd let me give you something."

"Might make me drowsy. I'm on duty."

"Dilandau's not waking up anytime soon, Miguel. I saw to that; he needs the rest."

Miguel blinked. Marie had sedated Lord Dilandau? But she and Folken said they weren't going to give him anymore drugs...

"It was necessary, Miguel. He's... He needs his rest."

Miguel frowned, letting his lashes droop and shield his eyes for a moment because he didn't trust his current expression. Marie wasn't one to stutter; Lord Dilandau wasn't one to need sleep.

"Marie, what's going to happen? Say the guys find the sister, Celena, and bring her here, what's the procedure? Is it dangerous?"

Marie hummed lightly, resting her chin in her hands. "Not for the recipient, Miguel. The burden is on the donor, once we determine she's a match. Removing marrow is a surgical procedure; Dilandau would receive the infusion via IV."

Miguel almost sighed in relief, before the cynical voice in the back of his mind reminded him that there had to be a catch. Catches always accompanied good things. He waited for it.

"The preparation for the transplant is what worries me, and then there's the period after, where we wait to see if Dilandau's body accepts the new marrow." Marie sighed. "Dilandau's got a long fight ahead of him, but... he can win; I know he can, especially once he sees his sister. He's been anxious about being reunited with her again."

"How could he never tell us about her? You'd think after so long, and listening to us talk about our families, sisters and brothers, that maybe he'd contribute a little something. I mean, all this time I thought he didn't have anyone, but us."

Marie raised a single brow, a half smirk lighting her lips. "Well, Miguel, he only just found out about her too. Maybe he was trying to get used to the idea. Going from a blank slate to being someone with a history is a bit overwhelming. Especially when that past is veiled."

Miguel blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Miguel, the fact that he has a sister out there is all Dilandau knows. I don't think he remembers his past; I don't know that he can."

A chill crept up Miguel's spine and he tried not to shiver, as he'd just found a comfortable position that reduced the throb of his injury to a tolerable twinge. "What do you mean you don't know that he can? You think something's wrong with his head?"

Marie frowned, blowing a stray hair from her eyes. "I know someone's tampered with his head."

Tampered with his head? But how and why would anyone...?– Great good gods... "The Madoushi."

Marie's lips pressed into a hard, straight line.

"They were right. Viole and Shesta always tried to tell us they were doing horrible things to him when they took him away, and the rest of us teased them about it. We should have stopped them sooner."

Marie shook her head, staring at Miguel contemplatively. "Sooner wouldn't have helped anything, at least not according to what I know."

"But that last time, the time they screwed up and made him sick... You're telling me stopping them that time wouldn't have helped?" Miguel sat up straighter, trying to look threatening but failing as he winced in pain. Damn ribs.

Marie's lashes lowered, veiling her eyes. "No, I don't think so. I think what happened then needed to happen, though Folken disagrees with me."

"What did happen then, Marie?" Miguel pressed, squeezing his eyes at the stitch in his side and fighting the impulse to touch the area. "He came back so different, but more like himself than he had been in months. What did they do?"

"That's for Dilandau to tell you if he so chooses," Marie said softly. "I was only told for medical purposes."

"Medical purposes..." Miguel sighed, slouching a bit. He frowned at the doctor, watching her lean back in her chair and tilt her head over the rest. She wasn't going to tell him anymore about Lord Dilandau's condition, he deduced from her demeanor, so he decided to change tactics, or subjects.

"Did the Madoushi have Celena?"

Marie snorted, not sitting up or looking at Miguel. "You could say that, but only for a while, I guess. She vanished without a trace a few weeks before you boys left Zaibach."

"She escaped?"

"Folken assumes she was deployed, but we don't really know anything for real. Sorcerer files are confidential, and Folken was locked out of the system near the end of our stay."

"The Madoushi didn't trust Folken? But he was one of their own; they should have trusted him more than anyone..."

"Until he started to care about one of their... specimens, Miguel," Marie said simply. "Dilandau was under Folken's care, and the fact of the matter is the man cared too much. I know why now, you've always known why, but Sorcerers don't care about why."

"Bastards."

"My sentiments exactly," Marie smirked, leaning forward in her chair and touching her knees. Grinning at Miguel, "You're a hundred percent sure you don't want something to take the edge off the pain? You're gritting your teeth pretty hard."

Miguel rolled his eyes in annoyance. "I told you..."

"And I told you that kid is out. If I give you something and it makes you drowsy, you can take a nap, wake up, and Dilandau would still be asleep. Now stop playing tough guy and take a pill."

Marie was already standing and shuffling about her little lab, in search of pain numbing drugs.

Geez. Pushy woman. He wondered why she hadn't just thrown Folken down yet and had her way with him. Dr. Marie didn't seem like the kind of woman who'd wait very long for someone else to make the first move.

Miguel sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair and pondering how much a little nap could hurt. Perhaps, he'd bunk with Lord Dilandau. He hadn't minded the last time.

"Dr. Marie?"

"Hmm?" Marie was shaking a bottle curiously, as if analyzing the sound of its contents.

"Do you think they'll find anything?– the guys, I mean. Do you think they'll find her?"

Marie half turned, looking over one shoulder at Miguel as she set down the bottle she held and continued her search for the perfect analgesic on multiple shelves. She winked at him and smiled. "Are you kidding? You Dragonslayers are the most tenacious people I know, so with your boys on the job, I'm planning on having a Celena to test by nightfall."

Miguel had to chuckle at her optimism and he lightened a bit as some of it bled into him. She was right. Miguel's friends would never give up, and if Celena was to be found, they'd be the ones to do it.

And since Lord Dilandau wasn't ready to talk... maybe she would be.

She'd save Lord Dilandau and answer their questions.

Celena was starting to fit the description of an angel– But did Miguel believe in angels?

"Do you like shots, Miguel?"

"No."

* * *

He didn't know what she liked anymore. She didn't want fresh fruit; she didn't want raisin bread with jam; she didn't even like the juice he'd squeezed for her. Gods... she was as infuriating as he could remember her being!

"Just poke around in the kitchen, Celena, find your own breakfast." Allen threw his hands in the air in defeat, staring at the blond girl that wrinkled her nose at everything he had to offer, very reminiscent of the child she'd been.

Eerily reminiscent in fact.

The girl hadn't spoken one complete sentence since she'd arrived and gone directly to her room to find her bed. Her prattle was the annoying rant of a five-year-old that thought she was older– and she was!

His little sister, gone for years, now 15, sat before him as if she was still the near baby that was stolen from Allen and his mother, eating syrup sandwiches without crusts and licking her fingers.

"What's happened to you, Celena?" Allen asked quietly, sitting down across from her and taking her sticky hands to wipe them clean with a towel. Celena growled at him and snatched her hands back, wiping them on the dirty pants she had wandered in wearing.

"What are you talking about Len?" she demanded crossly, narrowing her eyes at him and folding her arms over her chest. Allen scowled back; he hadn't missed that look.

"Where have you been?"

"In the woods. Was waiting for some people, but I guess they lied. Shoulda known better than to trust those bald head people."

"Bald people?" Allen frowned. He didn't press her for information, knowing he'd only receive more nonsense. It seemed as if... if no time had passed for Celena since the day she left. Well, no time had passed in her mind, at least.

"You look old Len, and your hair got long. How'd you do that?" Celena crossed her eyes as she puzzled over him. "And where's Momma? I looked for her last night. Couldn't find no night clothes and my bed looked funny. Why's it so little?"

Allen stared. Had the girl not looked in a mirror?

Goddess... maybe she had hit her head on something; maybe she had a concussion and was suffering from brain damage. By all means, he should be rushing her to the castle to see a doctor, maybe that Zaibach woman that took care of Dilandau. She seemed pretty smart.

But... something made him wait; something made him wary. He'd keep Celena to himself for a while; perhaps she'd come around later.

"Um... Mother's gone on a trip. Do you remember the doctor urging her to go south? I talked her into it." Allen wracked his brain for an explanation and prayed she bought it. He didn't want to... disturb her anymore than she was.

Celena frowned, chewing her lower lip thoughtfully. "She must have took him with her then."

"Him?" Allen cleared the gooey plate from the table and rolled his eyes as Celena stretched to plop her thumb in a remaining puddle of syrup. She sucked the digit thoughtfully as Allen ran soap and water over the dish in the sink.

"Yeah, him. He's gone too, but that's ok. He was getting on my nerves, like you, but worse. Hey, we got milk? I looked and didn't see none."

Allen shut off the water and turned to stare at her. Milk. Yes...yes, Celena had drunk milk on the days she'd eat sugary deserts for dinner and syrupy sweet breads for breakfast.

No one in the house had cared for the white liquid but Celena on her odd days; the days when she seemed to be two children, one tolerable and the other a hell brat. It was only fair that on the day she returned, Allen should deal with Hell Brat.

"Celena, about your garments..."

"I like these pants just fine... don't know where they came from though. I'm not wearing no lacy, fluffy dresses with itchy sleeves and big bottoms!"

Allen's temper flared briefly, but he calmed himself with a deep breath. "Celena... no one's going to make you wear anything you don't want to, but you do need some new clothes. Those rags you're wearing now won't do. Maybe you could put on something of mine until we can go into town."

The horror... A woman in his family wearing pants like a man in public, but then again... Celena never did claim to be a woman. No one had to know who she was, not yet. With her stance and the short length of her hair, maybe she could pass for a boy. Allen could say she was one of the soldiers the army was training; she could pass for one of Dilandau's pretty men... hell...

Allen chuckled, she could pass for Dilandau himself with the right coverage. She was the right height and the carriage was the same.

She'd just have to keep her mouth closed.

"Len?"

"Yes Celena?" Allen shook himself; he'd been lost in thought.

"Something's wrong, isn't it?"

Allen blinked, caught totally off guard. The look on her smooth face was serious and for the first time, Allen had hope that maybe a teenage mind was emerging. "Yes, Celena, something's wrong."

"With me?"

Allen turned away from her, bowing his head and studying the clean plate in the sink. "Yes, Lena, with you."

"W...where's Momma?"

Allen shut his eyes. "I told you. She went on a trip..."

"She's dead, isn't she?"

Her tone was progressing; she no longer sounded like an obstinate child, but an inquiring adult.

She wouldn't be able to hear a nod, and Allen wasn't sure if she was watching him, so he whirled to face her again. "Yes."

"Is he dead too? Did I kill him?"

"Who is _he_, Celena?" Allen asked curiously, moving back to the table where she sat, staring at spot on the wall, but not seeing it.

"Where am I, Allen? Who am I?" Celena whispered, sticky fingers left trails on the table as her hands slid across it in standing.

Allen frowned, coming around the table to touch her. "You're home, Celena. Are you starting to remember where you've been and what happened to you?"

Relief coursed through his veins like a fine sedative. His sister wasn't damaged after all. "You can tell me. I want to help you."

"I'm all alone, Allen, and it's my fault."

Allen grunted as she pushed him away from her. "I got rid of him."

"Got rid of who, Celena? – and dammit, you're not alone. Would you stop talking in riddles. Look at me and tell me what you mean. I'm all set to get the bastards that have hurt you, but you have to tell me who they are!"

"I hurt me... I hurt him... and now I'm alone..." She pulled at her curls. "All alone..."

"Celena," Allen reached for her again, but she darted away, knocking over a few chairs in her abrupt departure. Shit. Allen gave chase; there was no way he was ever letting the girl out of his sight again.

He followed her out the front door, through the garden, out the gates, past the trees and into the family plot. Oh gods...the grave.

"Celena, no! You're not ready. Lets go back inside and talk. I've pushed you too hard, and I'm sorry. How about we read some? You always liked to read..."

"You're so old... I'm so tall... Momma's dead... Brother's gone... What's happened to me? What's happening?" Celena fell to her knees in the grass just short of Mother's headstone, clutching her head and lowering her face in the cool grass. Allen gasped, trying to catch his breath and gather his thoughts.

Celena was having a breakdown of some kind. Too much had been placed on her shoulders and Allen had panicked her. Stupid.

He should have been gentler. He shouldn't have told her about mother, but...she had known, hadn't she? He crept to her side, kneeling to place a hand on her trembling back. His poor little sister.

"Don't worry about a thing, Celena. I'm going to take care of you from now on. Brother's not dead. I'm right here."

Her trembling increased, the rate of it frightening Allen. "Celena? Are you ill? Celena?"

Allen cried out and fell back as Celena suddenly bolted upright. "Celena?" she asked, her voice strange and thick. She rose on shaky legs, turning to glower down at Allen through smoky lavender irises.

Lavender? – the hell?

Her pretty features were cold and cruel as her lips curled wickedly. "Where the hell is that bitch Celena? I have a score to settle with her and that shit Dilandau."

"Dilandau? What are you talking about, Celena?" Allen demanded, staring in horror. His sister was going insane.

"Celena...Celena, stop calling me 'Celena' and tell me where the bitch is! I'll kill her and her freakin' brother!"

"Celena..."

"Valeska! My name is Valeska!" Celena roared, stepping toward him and reaching for something at her side. "My sword? Where did it go? Where are my..." Celena stared at her body, frowning at her bare feet and syrup stained hands. "No... no... Where am I? The last time this happened..."

Valeska? Allen struggled to sit up, gasping in pain as he was rudely reminded of his battle injury. Shit!

"Jajuka!"

Ja– what?– who? "Celena..." Allen panted.

"JAJUKA GET YOUR ASS HERE!"

She's hallucinating, and gods her voice. She sounded exactly like who she was claiming to be when in that register. Allen had to get up and he didn't care if he snapped ribs in the process. Someone had to save Celena before she hurt herself.

"Lord Valeska!"

Allen jerked at the deep foreign voice that seemed to come from nowhere. The air above them rippled and a Zaibach Alseid pulsed before them. No, not here! Allen was unarmed; Scherazade was at the castle!

"Jajuka!" Celena cried, rushing toward the melef, nearly weeping in relief.

"Celena, stay away from it!" Allen shrieked. He hadn't known his voice could get that shrill. He staggered upright, his pounding feet overpowering the feel of his throbbing innards. "Gods, no Celena. I just got you back."

He wasn't fast enough. He stumbled to the ground as his sister willingly leapt into the hands of the enemy, glaring at him and shouting, "I am Lord Valeska get it right!"

Then she vanished.

Again.

But this time, not without a trace. Allen fought back nausea and tried hard not to think about how he'd probably compounded his injuries. Hopefully, he hadn't punctured a lung; it wouldn't do to pass out before he got back to the palace.

Celena had claimed to be Valeska, a merciless Zaibach warlord, and Allen could only think of two people who could tell him why.

* * *

Dilandau felt like the biggest baby, but he couldn't help wanting to be held. He snuggled in her arms, loving her warmth and marveling at the softness of her bosom. "My poor baby. You act as if you've never been held."

"Not properly," Dilandau said in a low voice, knowing Momma would hear him, "and never by a woman."

"You didn't know how to look for me."

"I didn't know you were here," Dilandau corrected her. He shifted in her arms, so that he could gaze upon her face; she smiled down on him. "How are you here? I... this... doesn't feel like a dream and it can't be a memory. Momma, what is this?"

She lowered her forehead to his, sweet scented lips touching his nose. "This is a visit, my darling. I wished to see you and I was told I could, but only when you wished to see me."

Dilandau frowned, brow furrowing. He pouted as she chuckled at him, using the pad of a graceful finger to smooth the lines he was creating in his forehead. "Don't do that dear, you'll wrinkle."

"I won't."

"You will, in accordance to your grandmother anyway." Momma rolled her eyes, lashes fluttering dramatically, and Dilandau snickered. "Oh, so you can smile, and I must tell you that you are the spitting image of your great grandmother when you do that."

"Grandmothers and great-grandmothers... I have...?"

"Mmhm..." She hummed pleasantly, "and I could tell you about each and every one of them if it would please you. You need to know your history, Dilandau."

"My history," Dilandau breathed. I have a history; one that doesn't involve labs or Madoushi, but... "Momma, how? I was... never real. I'm only a part of Celena, a figment maybe. I didn't become... real until Zaibach. How can you claim to know and love me, if I was never really part of your life?– not as a person anyway."

She laughed again, the girlish sound pleasing to his ears and he rested his head on her shoulder she spoke. "But you were always part of my life. I gave birth to you Dilandau, you and your sister, but the first body Kami-sama gave you was not strong enough for this world, so he placed you inside your strong sister to grow until it was time for you to be born again."

Dilandau's breath caught in his throat and he was sure his eyes were twice their usual size. "What do you mean when you say you gave birth to me?"

"Just what I said, you lived in my womb with your sister, but when it was time to come out, you weren't ready as she was."

"I was born?" Naturally, no labs involved?

Momma nodded, her features slack with sadness for a moment. "I clung to you until they tore you away from me. I thought if I just held you... held you like I'm holding you now, you'd open your eyes. A few minutes longer was all I asked, but... No one wanted to hear me; they said I should nurse Celena. She was crying... for you, I know. I held her as I wanted to hold you, and when she opened her eyes, two souls peered up at me."

I was born dead.

"I've been waiting for you for such a long time. I wish she would have told you to look for me, but maybe my Celena didn't know I was here either."

"I don't think she did. I... didn't even know she was here for a while," Dilandau admitted. "There's so much I don't know, and so much more that I can't remember. You can tell me though, can't you? You can tell me about myself and Celena."

"Is that what you'd like to hear about?"

Dilandau frowned lightly, running his hands over her cottony nightgown. Did he want to hear about himself and his wayward sister? Did he really want to hear anything at all?

He shook his head, turning his face into her shoulder and clutching her tightly as she rubbed his back and stroked his hair, humming and rocking him slow.

This was more than enough and he feared anymore would take her away from him. Dilandau held fast, pledging to never let go and he pitied the man that might try to

tear him away.

I could sleep forever, if it means never letting go.

* * *

"Nothing at all, Gatty. I've scanned the East thoroughly and even set down to put out a query, no strange girls," Shesta was reporting, his voice thoroughly drained and more than a little hoarse.

"Same with the North," Viole added.

Gatty nodded, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, the tension headache that had built there from stress and lack of sleep was a step below distraction level. He was going to have to set down soon. Maybe he'd do another village round and find somewhere to rest for a while.

Exhaustion was devouring his body like a celebration feast. He'd gone nearly two days without sleep, and one of those days was spent preparing for and fighting a battle. Gatty was pretty sure in the old days he could have gone for longer, but... these weren't the old days, and if he was feeling the burn he knew the rest of his team were feeling it too. He could hear it in their voices.

But for Lord Dilandau, they'd fly on no reserves for weeks.

"I didn't get anything from the South or the Southeast," Dallet was saying. "It's like she doesn't exist, Gatty."

"Hell, she probably doesn't," Guimel grumbled. "Folken pulled this twin sister shit out of his ass. He's gone crazy, if you ask me."

"Guimel, Lord Dilandau is the one that asked..."

"Lord Dilandau was delirious!" Guimel exploded. "Gods, he's never said anything to us about a sister before, and don't you think he would have! Why the hell are we out here, Gatty? I've gone along with this for too long. I was willing to humor Folken for a while, but this is ridiculous. I'm ready to drop; we're all ready to freaking drop! Lord Dilandau's got nothing but Miguel looking out for him, and last time I saw Miguel, he wasn't looking too good himself. We need to go back to where we're needed."

"Guimel, this Celena person could be the one that saves Lord Dilandau," Shesta said, voice cracking as it rose in passion. "Are you really so eager to go back to the castle and watch him die, knowing that you could have been the one that brought back the difference?"

"Why do you people keep insisting that he's going to freaking die? No one said anything about that! Lord Dilandau will die when he's good and ready to, and he ain't ready! All of you guys are signing a death certificate that hasn't been published yet! And do you think he can't feel that? You know he can! You and Gatty should have learned something after yesterday; Lord Dilandau should have done more than deck you... and if you keep on spouting shit about this being his last chance, I swear I'll..."

"You'll what?" Shesta demanded. "You'll what, Guimel? You think I'm afraid of you?"

"Dammit all to hell! I'm going back to the castle! This is bullshit; I think you're all nuts, and I'm tired of wasting my time."

Gatty breathed deeply and counted to ten. It wouldn't do for him to lose his temper as Shesta had already lost his. "Guimel, we will do one more round, and then we'll return if we haven't found anything."

"One more round my ass!" Guimel sneered. "I'm out. Dally, you with me?"

"Dallet, hold you position. Guimel, if you leave..."

"If I leave what?" Gatty almost shivered at the ice in his comrade's tone.

"If you leave, you will be considered a deserter. I'm Captain when Lord Dilandau's not here, and I've given you orders. You disobey and you're through."

"Oh, so it's that easy for you to dismiss me, Gatty? We're back to being in Zaibach and pulling rank on your friends, huh?"

Gatty grimaced as the barb cut deep. "Don't bring our friendship into this, Guimel; this is about duty."

"It was never about freaking duty, Gatty, and you know it," Guimel said flatly. "I know where I'm needed. Miguel's not enough at the castle, and this is a waste of fuel."

The air was thick with tension and was set afire by the challenge. Gatty was in charge; he needed to assert his authority... but...

What was he in charge of? Guimel was right; this wasn't duty. It was friends saving friends. Gatty believed what he was doing was going to save a good friend, and maybe he'd assumed too much in thinking that all of them believed in the mission just as firmly.

"We're not going to find anything. I don't believe Folken; I don't believe Marie. Lord Dilandau would have told us before, and he didn't. I don't have a good feeling about this, and I don't feel my presence here will change anything. I'm going back. Miguel may need help, someone needs to talk to the cadets, and maybe there's something... that can be done in that stupid lab of Folken's. Maybe he missed something... something tangible."

Gatty shut his eyes as his vision doubled, and Guimel's line dropped out of the community frequency. He was leaving.

"Well that's just great," Shesta sighed. "Does anyone else feel that way? Dallet?– you don't want to follow him?"

"I understand where he's coming from, but if Guy's gone back, Lord Dilandau doesn't need another guard. I'll stay and I'll take Guimel's territories."

"Always covering for him, aren't you?" Shesta remarked scornfully. "When are you going to get bored of it, Dallet?"

Gatty didn't have to see the dark-haired boy to know that he was bristling. "Shut the hell up, Shesta! So someone doesn't agree with the group, it happens! Lord Dilandau encourages us to express our opinions, especially if they go against the majority! Guy's right; this whole thing is bullshit, but you got us out here cause we want to support you. But this thing can only go so far, and I'm tired. So you know what, Shes? I'm tired of covering for Guimel, so I won't. I'm out too."

"Ah no, wait Dal! Come on, you're cranky, Shesta's pissy–you know how he gets– don't leave mad!" Viole was saying. "Look, Gatty said we'd make one more circuit and go home. You can do one more circuit, and hey I'm close to Guimel's space, we can divide it between us."

"Damn, Vi, I don't know. This..."

"One more round, and then we'll call it quits. You were ready to do it before and do twice the work. Come on, we'll race– make it something kinda fun– and then we can go home and sleep for a week."

Gatty almost smiled at Viole's words and the pep he was somehow able to put into his voice. How did he do it? Gatty had seen the bags under Viole's eyes; the kid was as worn to the bone as Gatty, but he never sounded it.

Dallet actually chuckled. "I ain't racing you, Vi. You cheat."

"I don't cheat; you're just awed by my amazing skill."

"And your amazing ego," Dallet snorted. "Fine. I'll take half. Lets get this over with."

In private communication, Gatty tapped Viole's line. "Thanks."

"No problem, Leader Apparent. You ok? You were just gonna let Dallet go."

"My brain feels like its about to split in two," Gatty couldn't help but complain. "Viole, do you... do you think there's a sister? Because if you don't, we can just go home. Maybe Guimel's right and we're all being silly or just overzealous. I just want to help and I'll do anything, but have I gotten to the point of believing anything? I know people go nuts and start looking for major cures and what not when they're desperate... are we?"

Viole took a second to respond. "I don't know, Gatty, but I do know is if we don't look, we'll always wonder if we should have. It's not hurting anything... yet. One more round, and um... let me know if you need anything, ok? We need you, Gatty. Lord Dilandau's out, and Shesta's cracking."

That did not help his headache. "One more round," he breathed reclining in his piloting seat and massaging his temples. He disconnected from Viole and tapped into Shesta's line. "Shes?"

"Don't wanna talk right now Gatty."

"Just a question."

A slight cough, then, "What?"

"Do you believe it?"

"Not at all."

"Then why?" Gatty opened his eyes and leaned forward, anxious for Shesta's answer.

"Because I can't..." Shesta's voice broke and he coughed to clear his throat, "sit and watch."

Oh. Gatty blinked and frowned as Shesta ended their connection and blocked Gatty from his private line.

Am I the only one that thinks there may be something to this?– or am I the only one that's crazy?

Temporary Captain Gatty needed a painkiller and a strong sedative– no, he needed a drink.

* * *

It was an hour before Viole found anything. He circled the Northwestern outskirts, sighing at the peaceful wooded area and the small manors of minor nobles that chose to live outside the major cities. How long would places like these remain untouched by the destruction of war? Zaibach would bulldoze the area and make another factory or another laboratory using the captured Astorian citizens as specimens. He shuddered at the thought.

Choosing a place to hover, he sent out a tracing signal, hoping to pick up any stray blips of heat moving outside of a group. The girl would probably be traveling alone, if she was traveling at all...

Stop that. While he was still out here and looking, there was a girl. Viole could be dubious about the existence of Celena later.

He frowned. Just like the other places, all heat sources moving separately were within close radius of one another heat source or their home. Nothing unusual... except for that. Viole zeroed in on the dying energy signal of a melef... But it couldn't be an Astorian guymelef, the output was too sophisticated. It had to be an Alseid, an Alseid with no living pilot. No life signs were detected within the unit.

Viole bit his lip. Should he check it out? It wasn't really of his concern, if the pilot was dead, but... Curiosity killed the cat. He plugged into the community gateway. "Hey guys, found an enemy melef. Pilot is either dead or has abandoned the unit. Not detecting any life signs close by. I'm gonna check it out. Might give us some clues."

"Like what?" Dallet asked.

"I don't know..." Viole scratched his head, flinching at the oil dampening his fingers. Dear sweet Goddess, he needed a bath and a good hair washing. "Uh... well, Zaibach had the girl, and she wasn't here before, because Lord Dilandau didn't feel her... so she had to have come in somehow, huh?"

Hey, that sounded good even to him. If he wasn't so tired, he'd pat himself on the back. "Don't you dare move in alone, Viole. I see your location, and I can be there in a few. Wait for me."

Viole raised a brow. What was Shesta expecting him to run into, an army? Hmm... he chewed his thumbnail thoughtfully, it could possibly be a trap.

"Both of you wait, until the rest of us get there. Dallet, how far are you?" Gatty sounded like hell which was actually better than how Shesta had sounded. It was beyond time to go home.

"Not far," Dallet said. "I'm closer than Shesta. You're the farthest away, Gatty."

"Well you guys go in, and I'll get there when I do," Gatty sighed. "Be careful."

True to his word, Dallet was not far and Viole had company before he'd even prepared his landing functions. Shesta joined them a few moments later. They descended together, but Viole was the first to exit his unit. Oh gods... he stretched, placing a hand on his lower back to support it as it popped. He swayed a little as he straightened and had to catch hold of the leg of his melef before he fell.

He jumped at a hand touching his shoulder and he half-turned to face Shesta. The blond Slayer looked like death warmed over, pale and weary, blue eyes unusually bright. "You look like you need a nap worse that I do."

Shesta shot him a vaguely amused look. "You sure about that? I thought you were going to fall over for a moment there."

"I thought I was too," Viole admitted. "What's wrong with us? We used to eat this staying up for days straight crap for lunch."

"We burned ourselves out," Shesta sighed. Both turned at the sound of boots crunching heavily over crisp grass. Dallet appeared taking in both their appearances, his eyes lingering longest on Shesta.

"Sorry I snapped at you," he uttered with a yawn.

"Don't apologize; I snapped first. _I'm_ sorry."

Viole smiled lightly at the exchange and wondered if things would flow so easily between Shesta, Gatty, and Guimel when they returned.

"Lets find this junk pile," Dallet said. "I scanned it again before I got out. There's nothing in there, nothing around it, and the unit's not even functional anymore. It took critical damage in a recent duel. Hopefully the data centers will be intact. I can take that and look at it when we get back to see if any plans are encoded."

"It's such a good thing that you're smart," Viole grinned. "I'd be here forever trying to figure out what I should do."

They found the crippled purple Alseid within a copse of trees, acting as a cage. How had such a large unit fallen within this circle without breaking branches and destroying the foliage? Viole frowned at the machine, standing back as Dallet and Shesta walked to its legs, staring.

"This is Valeska's Alseid," Shesta said.

"Didn't Lord Van say it disappeared?" Dallet asked.

"I think he did," Shesta said softly. "I wasn't really paying much attention to him. Think she's dead?"

Dallet shrugged. "Lets take a look."

Viole tried to make his legs move forward. His teammates wouldn't appreciate his standing around gawking at them instead of helping. Viole gasped as the forest seemed to rotate around him and his lashes fluttered.

He sat down quickly and put his head between his knees, praying that the vertigo would pass. Was he really that tired?

"Viole!" Shesta was kneeling in front of him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Viole assured him, raising his head and hesitantly opening his eyes. There was only one Shesta and he wasn't dancing from left to right. Better, much better. "Just felt a little weird for a moment."

"Have you eaten anything?"

A logical question, and it was probably the logical answer to what was wrong with Viole aside from extreme exhaustion. "I completely forgot."

There hadn't been time for a meal before they'd left the castle to go on Folken's search, but they each had a compartment stocked with protein bars and water to sustain them on long missions.

Shesta rolled his eyes and sat beside Viole. "I don't have anything on me, but when we get back to the units, I'm going to watch you eat something."

Viole hummed in agreement, resting his head on Shesta's thin shoulder. Poor Dallet always seemed to get stuck with all the hard work, but he never really seemed to mind. Dallet had vanished within the cockpit of Valeska's melef, undoubtably digging around in its guts.

Valeska's body couldn't have been inside or Dallet would have called them over. He shut his eyes briefly, listening to the sounds of the woods and Dallet banging around in the melef. He could have fallen asleep right there, if Shesta hadn't have chosen that moment to start coughing.

Viole's eyes snapped open and he sat up as his friend doubled over. He rested on hand on Shesta convulsing back and the other on his forehead. "Shes, you're hot."

"I'm fine," Shesta choked out, clearing his throat, but not sitting up completely.

"No, you're not," Viole frowned. "Why didn't you say anything? You should have gone back with Guimel or better yet, stayed with Miguel."

"I didn't feel this way before we left..." Shesta trailed off as he realized his mistake.

"Hah! You admit you feel like shit." A wave of smugness washed over Viole that was quickly replaced with concern at Shesta's silence. "Shes?"

"I don't want to go back, Viole."

"We can't stay out here forever," Viole said gently. "There are worse places."

"I can't think of many," Shesta uttered. "I just..." he shook his head. "Don't tell, Gatty. He and I had this talk, and he really, really needs me to be something I can't, and I told him I could, because I didn't realize I couldn't until... until he fell. Viole, this is it, it's happening... and I don't wanna be there."

Viole wrapped an arm around Shesta, letting him lean on him. Did this ever feel familiar. "Even if Lord Dilandau wanted you to be?"

"He doesn't. He doesn't want anyone to see..."

Viole was shaking his head, shushing Shesta gently. "That's not what he told me."

"What he told you? Lord Dilandau? He talked to you?" Shesta asked, straightening to stare at Viole in full, his eyes dark and desperate. "What did he say?"

Viole frowned. Maybe he shouldn't, but he was pretty sure Lord Dilandau would never work up the nerve to repeat himself. Viole wouldn't quote him verbatim, but, "He's scared shitless. He doesn't want to die, but he feels it. You know, sometimes your body tells you something's wrong, and Folken's got nothing else to try. He doesn't want tears or pity, but he decided... He decided he doesn't want to be alone when it happens. He asked me to be there, and you, all of us. He wants us to talk to him until he doesn't answer back."

Shesta blinked rapidly, the corners of his lips twitching, expression wavering from horror to despair. "Oh gods... V... gods... Wh...what am I supposed to say to that? What did you say to that? What did you tell him? You... told him we'd be there right, because, because that's what he'd want to hear, right?"

Viole shook his head, stomach churning as he saw the defeated look on his captain's pale face. "I couldn't guarantee him that. I don't know what the rest of you want to do; I don't know how you feel..."

"We talked..."

"Yeah, we did." Viole shrugged. "And I still don't know. I mean, I know how you feel now, but I don't know how you'll feel then. You won't know either, until it's time."

"So what did you tell him, Viole? He didn't seem... disturbed at all. Not like when Gatty and I..."

Viole sighed, covering his eyes with one hand. "I told him, I'd be there if no one else was, and I'd read to him until he fell asleep. He doesn't want to know when it happens. He doesn't want to prepare... so..."

"So?" Shesta breathed.

"So tonight I'll read to him, and tomorrow I'll read, and I'll keep reading until I'm not needed anymore. That's all," Viole said simply. "It's our agreement."

Shesta gasped. "And you could do that, knowing that one day you'll turn the page and look down and... gods, Viole! You promised to do that?"

"Someone had to be able to promise him something. It's the least I could do, since none of the rest of you can figure out anything. You're scaring him. He's afraid of death and he's afraid of us not knowing what to do with ourselves afterwards. It's not fair to him, Shes. Lord Dilandau shouldn't have to be so scared. We took so long coming out of Dryden's room, because he wouldn't let go of me. He had to be ready, I had to be ready, and neither of us wanted to be, but... There was just too much to think about. We joined you, we fought, he fell... I promised and when we get back... I still promised. So, even if you stay Shes, I gotta go back."

Shesta was frowning now, his hand resting on Viole's shoulder. Shesta was comforting him now? When had that started? Viole was the group teddy bear; teddy bears offered hugs not received them. But gods, did it ever feel good.

He rested in Shesta's embrace, drifting off and not realizing it. Gatty and Dallet's conjoined voices so close, startled him back into alertness. Viole opened his eyes to stare at Gatty and Dallet's folded legs and torsos at a horizontal angle. Hmm? It took him a second to figure out his head was in Shesta's lap and the gentle brush going through his dirty locks was Shesta's fingers.

"Sleeping Beauty's awake," Dallet chuckled lightly. He smirked at Viole, leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees and rest his head in his hands. "Can I take the next nap, Shes?"

"Not in my lap, my legs are going numb," Shesta said, voice going raspy for a moment before he stopped and started again. He poked at Viole lightly. "You've slept long enough. It's... it's time we get back. We've done enough."

Viole frowned, turning his Shesta's lap until he was on his back staring up at the unwell blond, searchingly. "You sure?"

Shesta nodded. "I'm sure."

"Damn well better be sure, or we're setting up camp here. And I'm not looking at this data until tomorrow morning, Gatty, got that?" Dallet was grumbling. "Bet Guy's already in bed."

Shesta and Gatty stiffened noticeably and Viole was tempted to shut his eyes again. Ai, he hoped Guimel was far away from the hangar when they returned; Viole didn't want to hear it. He was tired of being referee today.

Just tired.

But he wouldn't sleep when he got back, not right away.

A promise is a promise after all.

* * *

Folken puzzled over the pleased smile that graced Dilandau's lips as he slept and wondered what he was dreaming about. What in Dilandau's life had him smiling so much? Maybe he was having a fantasy of some kind.

The door to Dilandau's room opened and in strutted Marie, making a show of tossing her mane over her shoulders then reaching back to usher in rather dazed looking Miguel. The dark haired Slayer made his way to the unoccupied side of Dilandau's bed without even acknowledging Folken's presence with a glance in his direction.

"How's our little Endymion? Has he stirred at all?" Marie smiled at Folken, the soft fabric of her white tunic sliding across Folken's cheek as she came to lean over Dilandau. Folken sat perched at his bedside in an armchair, inhaling her scent. She always smelled so clean.

"Not once; he seems to be having pleasant dreams."

Marie chuckled. "Looks like it." She smoothed a few wayward strands of silver hair from Dilandau's forehead, letting her fingers rest there for a moment. "Are you going to keep sentinel for the entire duration of his sleep? He's going to be out for a while."

Folken frowned at her. "I'll stay until he wakes, unless there is something more important for me to do. Have you heard from the Slayers?"

Marie shook her head. "Nothing yet." Her green eyes fell upon Miguel, who'd kicked off his combat boots and stretched himself over Dilandau's bed, burying his face in a pillow. "Comfortable, Miguel?"

"Mmmph..."

Folken raised a brow.

"I drugged him up," Marie winked. "He may have cracked some ribs; we're hoping for only extensive bruising, but with the way he's been grinding his teeth, I think we've got a crack."

Folken winced. "He shouldn't sleep that way."

"I wrapped him up extra tight; he'll be fine if he doesn't thrash around."

Folken sighed, leaning forward to rest his head in his hands. "What are we doing, Marie?"

"Salvaging what's left," she said. Folken held his breath at the sound of a chair being dragged across the carpet and the feel of her little knee against his. "Mind if I keep you company, Folken? Dilandau and Miguel aren't being very gracious hosts."

Folken lifted his face and gazed at her studying the two boys on the bed in amusement. "How much you wanna bet Dilandau rolls over and snuggles Miguel like a stuffed toy? Look at his face... and can you imagine the look on Miguel's face when he awakes and finds himself in his leader's embrace."

"Marie, you have such strange thoughts," Folken said softly, shaking his head. If Folken hadn't seen the woman the other day and shared her grief, he would have thought she didn't have a care in the world. Marie was so good at masking pain, almost as good as the boys she chastised for doing so.

"Do you think we have a chance in hell?"

"There's always a chance in hell, Folken. That's why so many of us will be damned," Marie said cheekily.

Folken tried to keep his expression bland, but he couldn't keep the worry from soaking his voice. "Marie, there are things you still don't know, and there are so many factors in this case that just can't be solved."

Marie's jade eyes narrowed. "Now would be the time to tell me anything else you feel is important, Folken. You shouldn't keep things from me that concern my boys."

Her boys? But he supposed they were hers and much as they were his. "I just don't see how the extra information will help the situation. I've already been denied access, and for you to know, would just escalate matters..."

"Folken, what are you talking about? You're rambling nonsense." Marie was staring.

Folken sat back, shutting his eyes and wondering what he was getting himself into. Lack of sleep and too much stress was making him crazy. He needed to focus on a task; find some work to do... He hadn't looked over Dryden's new plans for...

"Folken, stop ignoring me!" Marie's voice was shrill. "If it won't help then it won't hurt, tell me what you've been keeping from me."

"It's not..."

There was slight knock on the door.

"Tell whoever it is to go away; I'm about to yell at you, and if you don't want to be embarrassed..."

"Marie leave it alone! I don't want to talk about it, because there is nothing I can do it! I can't force anyone to..."

The knock came again.

"Dammit, go away!" Marie yelled, momentarily forgetting about the two sleepers in the room.

There was soft murmuring outside the door, two voices, one low and calm– Pearce, and the other slowly rising in irritation that was giving way to anger.

"Who the hell is that?" Marie rose from her seat, scorching Folken with a glare that made him gulp.

Gods... he thought as she stalked away to find out who was at the door... what do I want to tell her? Obviously there was something his conscience wanted out in the open. He'd told Marie so much that he hadn't had to, about the separation, about Celena, about the Madoushi... but he'd never told her...

No, he'd never even mentioned it.

Marie didn't know what Celena's last name was. Folken didn't see the importance after the Knight Caeli had thrown him out of his office that day and refused other requests for blood samples Folken had approached him with after Allen had time to adjust to Dilandau's presence. All Marie would have done was get angry and challenge the man with information he didn't need to know, things that might hurt Dilandau if they got out. Dilandau was sensitive, matters of kinship were open wounds, and rejection from Allen would be salt poured generously over them and massaged in with a hot towel dowsed in alcohol.

No, there was no reason for anyone but Folken to know, especially if Allen would be of no help.

Why was he threatening that balance now... now that it was... Folken covered his mouth with a hand, maybe that was why. Maybe it was a last hope more tangible than locating Celena. Maybe he was hoping Marie would violate their contract and take Allen down by force.

He certainly could.

Maybe he should.

But if Allen proved not to be a suitable donor, those actions would be ruinous to any semblance of normalcy they had earned for themselves. The boys seemed brighter, despite the shadow of their leaders' illness hanging over their heads. Their lives held more promise in Astoria. Folken could secure futures for them of their own choosing. Marie and Pearce were living comfortably...

Folken had to put things in perspective and set things in place for the future. Dilandau would be doing the same, if his life wasn't the bargaining chip.

The gods were playing a game. They were above playing a gambling game with dice and cards, Dilandau was the trump card any could play to turn the tables on their opponent.

The question was... which god held him in their hand, and what did they hope to win?

The voices at the open door were loud. Marie was yelling, Pearce's voice was raising, and a man's voice... a familiar man's voice was shouting over the both of them. "I don't care what's going on in there, I'll talk to Folken, I'll talk to Dilandau, but by the gods, I_ am_ talking to one of them! I'll knock you both down if I have to!"

Dilandau stirred a bit, face twisting in a slight grimace of displeasure. He twitched, rolling over toward Miguel, body pondering the strange new feel of that side of the bed, his hand explored the surface to find Miguel's prone form. He sidled up to it, purring in his sleep and whispering something softly.

Folken frowned, he hadn't caught what Dilandau had said, though he'd leaned forward to hear it. He turned angry eyes to the door to see a red-faced Allen Schezar standing at odds with both Pearce and Marie who fenced the man in, keeping him out of the room.

"They have some very important information that I need them to disclose to me immediately!"

"Whatever it is can wait! If you haven't noticed, Dilandau is ill and Folken is taking care of him."

"It'll only take a few minutes! I need to know!"

Folken was at the door in two strides, pushing Marie and Pearce out of the doorway so that he could step out and pull the door closed. "You are disturbing the rest of my wards. What is it that you want?"

Allen's blue eyes narrowed dangerous, and for a moment Folken imagined they were garnet. "You know what I want."

Folken bit back an irritated growl. "I'll call you when I become psychic, Schezar. Leave, now, or you will take responsibility for my actions toward you."

"Folken?" Marie's voice was awed.

"What can you possibly do to me that is worse than what your people did to my sister? Zaibach took my sister and did something to her! She thinks she's a crazy warlord named Valeska, and..."

"Your sister?" Marie asked as Folken raised a brow.

Valeska?

Valeska was Adelphos's new toy. She had been Dilandau's replacement and Folken had been denied access to the Madoushi's files around her sudden appearance...

Of course.

How could he have been so stupid?

"She's Valeska," Folken murmured.

"Adelphos's new bitch..." Marie uttered. "What does she have to do with anything?"

"So you knew!" He gave Folken a rough shove that Folken was unprepared for. He slammed into the hard wood of the door with a loud crack.

"Shit Folken, I drugged them, not put them in comas!" Marie growled, pushing him out of the way and slipping into the room. "Get him away! Pearce, help him."

The door closed and Folken turned to glare back to Allen. Pearce stood just beside him, awaiting orders.

"What have you done to my sister, you bastard!" Allen demanded, face flaming with fury. "She came home today after 10 years and she ran away from me! She changed, her eyes went purple and she... she went back to Zaibach, claiming she was Lord Valeska."

"Lower your voice," Folken commanded, taking hold of Allen's arm with his metal hand, aware that he was going to leave bruises on Allen's pale flesh. He forcefully led the Knight away, toward his lab and Allen dug in his heels.

"I'm not going to that room with you!"

Folken released him, shoving him away hard. "Then we don't talk. I don't owe you anything."

"Like hell you don't! You..."

"I had nothing to do with your sister!" Folken yelled. "I know of her, but I don't know why I should feel obligated to help you... unless you know where she went and can tell me..."

"She went back to Zaibach! I don't know where they've taken her now, which is why I'm asking you! What's going on?– and how long have you had information on her?"

Folken stared at the man, wondering if this was his chance... Could he tell him the full truth and be believed? "I'll only talk to you in my lab. You are too loud."

"I will not go in that room."

"My quarters then," Folken relented.

"Fine."

* * *

"They experimented on Celena!" Allen couldn't control his outburst and bristled under Folken's glare. Allen sat in an armchair while Folken stood, pacing in front of his window, metal hand clenching and unclenching.

He's angry at me and I don't know why.

Allen was puzzled over that, if anyone had the right to be angry it was him. "So, these Zaibach men...sorcerers you call them, did evil things to Celena for years, made her crazy, made her into someone else. They kidnaped children and twisted them. How many little warlords out there destroying things in the name of Zaibach are someone's long lost little sibling? Who does Dilandau belong to? I know he has to be one of their experiments too. Do you even know? Did you even bother to find out? Could you be putting some poor family at ease?"

Folken turned his back to Allen, shoulders going tense as he leaned on the window pane. "Ninety percent of the children didn't survive their Fate Alterations, another six percent died shortly afterwards. Only the special ones lived... for awhile, until separation."

Allen's eyes widened as his heart leapt into his throat and his stomach plummeted into his bowels. "What? But..." Celena had lived... was he saying she was going to die? "What is separation? Will it kill Celena? Can we stop it?"

Only the special ones lived. Celena was special... but why?

"It's already been done. Celena won't die, not from the process."

His voice was so calm and it was infuriating Allen. How could he be so indifferent? These were children they were talking about; it was his sister! "What is separation? What made Celena special? Is it why they took her, or was she chosen at random?"

"I don't know why Celena was chosen, Allen. I don't even know if I understand why she survived."

"So it was all chance? My sister just happened to be lucky? She could have died just like the others?" Allen's hands were balled into angry fists. But Celena was special, she had to be. She couldn't have been random selection and she didn't survive by chance. There was something there, something Folken wasn't saying. "Well what do you think brought her through it? You must have some sort of theory!"

"Would it matter to you?"

Allen wanted to strangle the man, anything to make him act like he cared, like what they were speaking of was important. "Yes! Tell me everything you know! If I'm to fight them, I need every ounce of ammunition I can get!"

Folken chuckled humorlessly. "So much alike... always ready to fight, even when you don't understand."

Allen growled low in his throat. "Folken..."

"You assumed right, when you said Dilandau was part of the experiment... But which part? You asked of whom he belongs, and did I even bother to find out?"

Allen rocked back and forth in his chair, forcing himself to remain seated. You will not kill, Folken until he's done talking. You will not kill...

"Ever just look at him, Allen? Really look, I mean. Ever ponder his habits and find similarities to your own? Do your men ever point out similarities to you?"

"What is your point, Folken?"

"A Fate Alteration starts with a host and ends with the emergence of an alter ego. Host and Alter Ego share the body until they become unstable, and then they must be separated. Successful separations usually happen after the body has fully matured; it is disastrous to separate before then. The host may survive, but the other fails."

The other fails... Dilandau was ill and had been ill since his arrival, even before then, according to Van. "How do the Sorcerers know when the body becomes unstable?"

"The controlling persona's behavior becomes erratic, and they are a danger to themselves and others..."

Dilandau was a certifiable psychopath when Allen had met him, and now he wasn't. But if he was failing, then he had to be an alter ego. "So the Alter Egos are the ones in charge of the body, and the body molds to reflect the controller?"

"Yes."

"If Celena's been separated, why is Valeska still there?"

"Perhaps a second Alteration has been performed on her."

A second... "A second? So there was a first and she has an alter out there that..." Allen paused. Why had Folken chosen to bring Dilandau up when he did? He'd ignored Allen's initial question about the boy, and only brought it up later to discuss similarities... But Dilandau was a boy. There was no way he could have come from Celena. Celena always claimed to be a boy, she had wanted to be one, but she certainly was not. Was there a way...?"

"Folken, is it possible? Could they do it? Produce a boy from a girl?"

Folken moved away from the window, whirling to face Allen, the sunlight streaming from the window making it hard for Allen to discern the emotion in his eyes. "It had never been done before then, and hasn't been done again since."

"Dilandau is Celena's alter ego."

"More than that."

More? Allen frowned. "What do you mean...?"

"I've been watching you as I've always watched him. I've seen other successful Alterations and I've... And before I became Strategos, when I was a Sorcerer, I would see some of the initial hosts, I've seen their families..."

Allen started, blood boiling. Folken had allowed the mutilations...

"Some of the... the children... their families were native of Zaibach and they would provide for the Sorcerers, volunteering their children. Fate alteration was a chance at a better child to them. The ones that lived... none of the emerging egos looked so much like their host or mimicked anyone in the host's family."

"Did you see Celena?"

If he had, Allen was going to kill him.

"No," Folken shook his head. "I was gone before then."

Allen relaxed a bit. "So Dilandau's different?"

"Very much so. He was...is... the best they'd ever created, and they want to know why. They kept very close tabs on him, recalling him ever so often... and then he became unstable."

"And they were separated. How long ago?"

"Months," Folken said flatly.

"And they never found out what it was about Celena that made her... so valuable? How she could bring about something like Dilandau? What were the other Alter Egos like? Were they intelligent?"

Folken frowned. "Some weren't. Most were useless. Dilandau is the only one with a full mind of his own. There are stories, mysticism and folklore that some Zaibach scientist believe... Zaibach is home to science and magic and people trying to combine the two... but they talk of people born with two souls. The children that were stolen were randomly selected... but randomly selected from a specific group."

Allen stared. He didn't want to hear about fairytales, but if Folken thought the Sorcerers may have used such a ridiculous source to choose their victims, Allen needed to know.

"A lot of the children talked to themselves... imaginary friends and such, but there were a few that went beyond that. Those few were the ones that made it."

"Beyond imaginary friends? What does that mean?" Did Celena have imaginary friends? Allen shook his head. No, she never spoke of friends or seeing anyone outside of herself, but inside... Inside she said...

Inside she said she had a little brother who was just for her.

"There seemed to be something really there," Folken said with a frown. "Truly disturbed, I'd labeled them. There are psychological disorders I used to label them. Schizophrenia, Disassociative Identity Disorder, Split Personality... I do believe they did hear voices, and sometimes I would see them take on strange mannerisms that weren't the norm for them. But what was strange was that those strange manners were reflected in their Alter Ego..."

"But Celena did not have a psychological disorder as you say. She was not crazy."

"I never observed Celena, I told you. But they wouldn't have chosen her unless..."

"She wasn't crazy!" Allen argued. She just... she was a very creative child. She was... born a twin and the twin, the boy, died at birth. Mother had told her about him, Allen had teased her, so she made someone up to replace him.

When she'd come that morning... she'd been looking for him. Didn't she claim to have killed him?

Allen shuddered.

"When she was here, in my house... our house, she didn't remember things. She acted like she did before she left for a while. She was as I remembered her and different as well. I didn't know what she wanted for breakfast. She was such a weird little girl. Sometimes all she'd eat was meat and sugar. She was the most vile of brats and I couldn't stand her." He chuckled, feeling himself drifting bit as he reminisced, forgetting Folken's presence as he spoke to the younger man. "Gods, I thought I hated her sometimes... but then sometimes, she was different. She stayed near Mother and was such a picky eater I could have strangled her. Several of our cooks quit, we couldn't keep nannies and Mother would have to watch her, but Mother was ill and it used to make me so angry. Why couldn't she be normal?– and whenever she did something detestable, and I told her how horrible she was... she'd tell me she didn't like me. She wished..."

Allen shut his eyes, bringing his hand to cover them. "I said awful things to her. I didn't care how little she was. I just couldn't control my temper, but the things that would come out of her mouth... They were things five-year-olds shouldn't say. She told me once, she wished I was the one that was born dead. Then...then _he_ could have had my body. He– her _real_ brother, the twin I guess, the one she claimed was inside her that only she could talk to."

In the distance, Allen heard a gasp, but it didn't hinder his words.

"I told her she killed him. I told her she was greedy and ate up everything from him inside Mother, and he died. I told her Mother loved him best, because after they were born, it was him she held... but he was dead. Her face, her eyes... she wouldn't let go. Father, Father was actually there, and he took the baby from her; we had to make her hold Celena. She didn't want to at first, until she looked at her. She looked at her and smiled and started nursing like she'd forgotten about the other baby."

"Celena...Celena had screamed and screamed... and then she stopped, and then mother held her..."

Allen was shaking. "Father and I buried the baby. It's... he's in the family plot, but no one named him. He's just there... with a little blank headstone."

"And then we... forgot about it. It was for the best. Mother never asked about it. All of her attention went to Celena... she was never well after that, giving birth to two. Father left. I never expected him to stay, the bastard never stayed long."

"I helped Mother. I was ten, but I tried. I liked her best when she was the other child. I actually started labeling her as two... one was a brat, but a tolerable brat, and the other was hell on Gaea. I told Mother to spank the nonsense out of her, but she wouldn't. The nannies tried, but Celena could be so smart– tolerable brat was smart, hell brat was just mean. Sometimes they worked together."

Something was speaking to him, someone... He felt something touch him and he grabbed it, latching onto reality through the contact. He blinked and found himself staring up at Folken.

The man looked strange, his normally expressionless eyes were dark with confusion, and slowly dawning realization. "Allen," he breathed. "Allen, I know why."

Allen had to close his eyes, the room was spinning. What had Folken done to him, how had he gotten so lost in himself? He tried to never think of his past. He hated it. It symbolized his failure. Allen hadn't protected his mother, he hadn't protected his sister, his Father had abandoned him... And now, now he was Knight to what?– to make himself seem better than he was.

To forget who he was.

Then why did he keep going back to Schezar manor? Why didn't he sell it? Then he never would have seen her again.

"Allen, I know why."

"You know why, what?"

"I know why Celena was special," Folken was squeezing his shoulder, cinnamon eyes boring into his.

He didn't sell it... he kept going back... he saw her again...

Why?

"Tell me why."

I don't want to forget. I never did. One can't become better by losing one's reason for doing so. He had to reminded or he'd lose his focus.

Allen had to know why.

"Celena is a twin, a twin who's multiple didn't gain consciousness in his rightful place."

Allen stared.

"She was two people, Allen... and the Sorcerers gave the second a body. It's why he's lasted so long...it has to be..." Folken was no longer speaking to Allen as he seemed to gaze right through him. "He was always his own person... with nowhere to go."

She'd said she was waiting in the woods for bald-headed people... She was waiting and said they would rid her of _him_, he was bothering her like Allen was.

But what Folken was suggested was preposterous. Dilandau was a science experiment created from his sister...

A wildly successful experiment.

The children that made it were crazy...

But Celena wasn't crazy, she wasn't like them, she just thought...

"What are you trying to say to me, Folken? You think Celena is special because she had a twin brother that died?– and she pretended to hear him? Because she seemed like two different children sometimes and this morning...this morning she was only one child, and she said that _he_ was gone..."

Folken blinked, his eyes studying Allen again. What was so interesting? Allen wondered what he looked like at the moment? Did he look crazy? He felt crazy. Allen ran shaky hands through his hair, breaking eye contact with Folken.

The man was about to tell him something insane, that only the insane would believe, but Allen was going crazy anyway...

"Dilandau is Celena's twin."

"No." Allen shook his head.

"Look at him, Allen, just go in and really look at him. Tell me you don't see it, after you do! Ask your men, ask them and come back and tell me they didn't say he acts like you!"

"They already say he reminds them of me! I don't know why! He doesn't! And look at him? What am I looking for, Folken? I look at him all the time!"

"Look for what you don't want to see..." Folken hissed in his face. "Take the blinders from your eyes, forget that you don't like him... and watch him, watch what's left of him, and tell me you don't see what I do."

"What do you see, Folken?" Allen demanded.

"I see someone who would be your brother."

* * *

Guimel trudged up the stairs, letting out a breath of joy as he reached the Slayer corridor. He could smell his bed, smell the room service he was going to order... His mouth watered along with his eyes and he wiped at them both. He'd pay a visit to Lord Dilandau and Miguel first, make sure they were all right.

It was what he'd come for after all. Bed and food were second prizes to him. Screw Gatty, screw Shesta, and anyone else who'd damn him for not chasing figments. Guimel believed in what he could see, and he could see Lord Dilandau.

He reached Lord Dilandau's door and prepared to knock when Allen Schezar slammed out of Folken's room. He stalked angrily past Guimel, not looking at him and Guimel blinked at the rage in his countenance.

The fire in his eyes rivaled Lord Dilandau's...

If only they were red.

He chuckled to himself, knowing Allen would not appreciate the comment. Schezar's own crew made similar assessments, earning the knight's ire, but hell... the guy should be honored.It's not everyday one gets compared to a great guy.

One day, he'll realize it.

Hm– Guimel knocked on Lord Dilandau's door softly– and on that same day one of the hell's would probably freeze over.

* * *

Author's Note: So what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Either way, let me know; please review!

* * *


	30. Chapter 26

Author's Note: Hey everybody. I would like to inform you that this chapter just about kicked my hindquarters. Ok, so it did, and I hate admitting defeat. It's nota big action chapter; it's another development chapter. We argued about it should hold and how it should end, and it won. Lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy the chapter and will review and tell me how you thought it was, even if you thought it was crap. I won't hate ya...much ;)

Thank you Cat for reading over this for me!

Reviewer Responses:

Macky: Hey, thanks reviewing. I put some more Merle in this chapter for ya :). Take care,

Kou-Kagerou- Hey chic. I hope classes are going well and you got some time to visit home. Answers to your questions... The boys were going to use one of Dilandau's sketches until they discovered that he had none of anyone that looked young enough to be Celena. I forgot about the woman suiting up for battle drawing. It doesn't look like Celena, but if the Slayers had never seen her before they would probably take any picture of a female that was of age. So, I'm going to add the detail that the woman in the picture is in her twenties. grins...so what if it's cheating :P Actually, Folken could have figured out that Allen's family is the only branch of Schezars (Zaibach has good stuff, and since Allen's dad is the guy that spited Zabaich's pin-curled chief and the theft of his daughter wasn't random, they do have extensive Schezar files) and I was working under the assumption that he did. The reason why he didn't push harder to obtain a blood sample from him is in this chapter (yeah, so he'll still sound like a pansy, but what can we do lol). Thanks for thinking I was really smart though lol, inflates my ego. You _should_ be the author ;). Lol Marie griping at Folken for Allen shoving him into the door, goes back to when you're really frustrated, you're frustrated at anyone who dares to breathe in your presence. Haha, glad you liked the Slayer argument, I hope I carried it over well into this chapter. I'm still dealing with how each one of them is internalizing the problems they are being faced with. I'm glad that you're still enjoying the story, no matter how long or slow some of the chapters can drag. Thank you for making time to read the story and snap me up for things I could be doing better. You keep me on task :). Take care, good luck with classes, and thanks again!

Pocketfirefairy: Lol! That's the first poor Allen I have heard! Allen will be happy to know that he has a fan. Yay, someone else thinks Allen and Dilandau act alike ;), I'm getting somewhere. Take care and thanks for the review!

Higashikaze: Thank you :). I'm glad you like the story. The one-shots simply feedback into the story. I try to make it to where they don't really have to be read for the story to be understood, but if you wanted in depth description of an event, that's where you would go. :) :) One day I do hope to publish my fiction :)... but not this, because I'd be sued by people with lots of money, who'd scoff at the small amount they'd get from me, but would still take it and giggle at me and my empty wallet. Ooh... the Escaflowne dubs and the cuts that Fox kids made to make it more Saturday morning appropriate... shakes head. The first few episodes I rented from Hastings were Fox cuts, and when I actually bought the series it almost seemed like a new anime. Aw... well, I know Van/Dilandau isn't for everyone, but it amuses me; glad you can look past it :). Valeska and Celena.. Well if you don't like Val, you're not gonna like Celena much either lol. Not a big difference between those two, if there's any at all ;). I will tell Folken you said he was adorable, though I will be careful not to say it around "his boys" lol. Dilandau is a fun character to write and grow with. Allen is a fun character to make annoying ;). I am so happy that you like long chapters, because I have a problem with writing short ones, especially when I try to lol. Glad you do not think this story is a bunch of crap strung together, haha; that cracked me up! In response to another review you submitted ( because I don't know when I'll ever get back to that story lol) I'll admit, one of my favorite things to do is medical research. My favorite classes in undergrad were neuroscience and first aide, so that's why. You write what ya know :). Anyways, thank you so much for reviewing and I hope you enjoy another long chapter. Oh, and you may want to stay away from the "If I Didn't Know Better" one shot ;).

Strangedream: Ooh, I want to answer your question so bad, but if I do I'd be telling. Hmm... I'll give you a hint: Did I ever really say how many Fate Alterations Celena actually had? ;). Lol, if you e-mail me I can say more, if you really want to know and can't wait. Ask anyone who talks to me, and they'll let you know that I'm not a very good secret keeper lol. Thanks for reviewing girl, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter! Take care!

Katsu: Hehe, you're not lying when you say this story is more like a book. I just went over 500 pages with this chapter. Now I'm like oh gosh...I really, really have to wrap this up soon. I am so glad you like it, and sigh... the part you want to see will have to come in the next chapter. This one far exceeded its bandwidth, so I had to hold off on some stuff I really wanted to get to. Hopefully next chapter will resolve more issues and get to some more fun topics. Thank you for reviewing and take care! I hope you like the chapter even if it doesn't include the fun stuff yet ;).

Gadget151: Lol, no I'm not laughing at your e-mail problem, but what you said about the "doof" Haha! Yes, Celena and Valeska are one in the same :) but it may not be so confusing when you think about Celena's behavior lol. Thanks for the review girl, and I hope you get your e-mail back soon :). Take care!

S.P. Vinter: LOL! Well, I hope you enjoy the previous chapters and that you'll like this one too. Did you want me to e-mail you and let you know when I've put something new up? Anyways, lol, take care and thanks for dropping me a line. Nice to hear from you again :).

Haruko: Hey! Happy you liked the chapter and I hope you'll like this one as well. Dilandau's dream was strange to write, but I'm glad you thought it turned out well. Allen and Celena interaction is fun and you will get to see a lot more of Celena. :) Lol, also glad you like the Slayer parts. Yes, being stubborn runs in the Schezar family; it's a dominant trait ;). Oh yes, there will be a quite a few more chapters until the end. The story and I aren't seeing eye to eye. It thinks I need to slow down, and I want a close. We're still doing battle; we'll see who wins. Take care, and thanks for reviewing!

Nikku: An entire chapter with no Van... yup, did you miss him? He's in this chapter plenty, so don't worry, if you were ;). Think I already told ya that though. So happy you liked Folken and Allen's chat...er...argument lol. It was kind of production at the end. Folken and Marie and blinkers... not talking, but you'll see :). Gosh, you're so blunt; the scary thing is Shesta would appreciate the remark and consider it a compliment. Grins about water in your eyes You big softy! And get your mind out of the gutter, if there is any yaoi between Slayers, how much you wanna bet Viole wouldn't choose Shesta ;). Dude, the Celena body changing scene would have freaked me out if I was there to witness it. It's one thing in the anime that I will never forget, so I had to keep it in. Allen has another fan :). He's gloating now. Celena is a brat and she would like for you to refer to her as worse than Valeska. Alright, it's here. I know I told you afternoon and its almost evening here...but what can I say, work is annoying. Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Glass Angel1: Eww school, finals, work lol! School and finals are over for me until August, but work keeps calling and I need to start the grad school hunt. Thanks for reviewing girl and I'm happy you like how the story is turning out and how the characters are developing. Take care!

Namida: Hey girl, haven't heard from you in a while :). Hmm...I updated, but it wasn't what you probably meant by soon, so am I out of a best friend:(. LOL! J/K. Glad you liked the chapter and hope you like this new one. Take care and thanks for reviewing.

Renluva: Eek, she died. Should I do CPR... Eek, no, she lives (lol, sorry I'm at work and I'm bored, so I'm being silly). You are right; no one has been updating lately. I wish I would get more alerts to things I want to read in my inbox :(. I'm happy the story is unfolding nicely for ya, and I hope you enjoy the new installment. Thank you for reviewing and take care!

Skippys Cat: Hey chica. I never know what to say to you in these, because I talk to ya so much. You know more about the plot now, than I do :). I am at work right now posting this, and then I am going to get started on the next chapter so that I can deliver the part promised. I WILL have it for you this week. Well, I hope you're having a great day and I'll chat with ya later. Thank you so much for being my beta. I know you get tired of hearing this but: I wuv ya Cat! Take care!

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Chapter 26

Marie's face was hard as stone, her eyes cold as she stared at Folken from her stool. She tapped short nails against the polished metal table, eyes narrowing minutely as he spoke. Folken had decided to wait until morning before he spoke to anyone about what he knew. The Dragonslayers had returned and gone bed, and Folken had sat in his room, turning the black box Dallet had delivered to him from the heart of Valeska's, or Celena's, Alseid, over and over in his hands, pondering his next move– telling Marie.

"Folken, you are an idiot."

Folken blinked, lowering his eyes for a moment, before lifting them again to meet hers.

"We've had the answer here all this time, and you let it run by us time and time again! Forget looking for Celena, Valeska, whatever the hell she wants to call herself these days, we need Allen! Young men are much better donors than women. There's less of a chance Dilandau's body will reject Allen's marrow... that is, if he's a match. Which we could have known for sure a long time ago! Damn you, Folken! Damn you and your stupid manners! You should have told me! I would have stuck him! I WILL stick him!"

Folken sighed, massaging his temples; Marie was so predictable.

"Marie, we can't just..."

"I damned well can. Just you wait. I'll get Pearce and a few Dragonslayers, and we'll get this show started."

"Marie..."

Marie rose from her chair, grabbing Folken by the collar of his shirt and pulling him close, until they were nose to nose, her hot breath on his lips. "I will not let that boy die because of your sense of honor and nobility. I respect you for wanting to adhere to it, but I do not follow the codes you do, and I will do as I see fit. I thought you cared, Folken; I thought you'd do anything..."

Folken caught her by the wrists, squeezing hard as anger pulsed through his veins. How dare she? How dare she... "Don't ever say that again! I love Dilandau; he's a brother to me, and I'm not sacrificing his life for honor! I'm ensuring a future here for us. If we make enemies of these people by attacking a Knight Caeli, where would we go? What kind of lives would these boys lead? If we grabbed Allen, drugged him and stole his blood... where would we test it and perform the procedure? We'd be thrown out of this place so fast... I am only thinking ahead!"

Marie struggled, freeing a wrist and smacking him across the face, hard. "Think now!"

"I can't! Marie, if Allen's not a match, what then? If he is, and Dilandau's body still doesn't accept it, if we find something else wrong... We have to be secure. I am the provider. They're children, Marie. They need this. They need someone who can plan ahead. Dilandau would want me to do this, if he knew..."

"But he doesn't. He doesn't know anything at all. Are you even going to tell him what Celena's last name is?– what his last name is?"

"It's not important..."

"Not important? To a boy who thinks he's a creation of science with no family, no background, no history? Folken, sometimes I really want to think you're of a different species than the rest of us! You can't be human, if you don't understand the basic human need of family!"

"Dilandau has family!"

Marie stared, removing her other hand from Folken and stepping back, studying him hard. "So... You want him to yourself?– is that it? Your little Van rejects you for that creep Schezar, and you don't want Dilandau doing the same?"

"They don't even like each other!" Folken couldn't help but utter.

"Folken, if that's your reason, so help me I'll deck you in the..."

"Marie, you know better than that!" Folken turned away from her. "At least I thought you did."

"No, you didn't. Apparently you don't think anything much of me, judging from all the secrets you keep! You honestly think I'm beyond reason. You think I could ignore all the... the sense you just made to run off and attack a knight who could very well have the lot of us hanged as traitors?" Marie fumed, stalking toward him and spinning him around. "So, I got angry and said some things in the heat of the moment, but I'm not a fool, Folken. And I truly hope that you wouldn't ally yourself with someone you thought to be one."

Folken frowned, looking at her in full. She wasn't wearing a lab coat or the plain white tunic and long pants of her doctor's uniform, but a boy's black, sleeveless undershirt and a pair of cotton pants that tied on either side that women wore into bath houses. Marie placed both her small hands on her finely shaped hips and waited for Folken's response, twisting her tiny waist from side to side in attempt to...

_Crack._

Great good gods... Folken took a step closer, inviting himself into her bubble of personal space, staring down at her. She was a head shorter than he was and her golden red hair smelled of vanilla. Marie tilted her head back to glare at him defiantly and stopped, emerald eyes going wide with surprise, then soft... soft with something that made something inside of Folken turn cartwheels.

"You think I'm a fool, Folken?" Her voice was a whisper, her lips parting slightly. Folken wondered...

He wondered what they tasted like.

Probably much better than they looked... he dipped his head as she rose on her toes to meet him halfway.

He felt the gentle nick of her tongue against his lips and he opened his mouth, allowing her entrance. Her professional hands mused his hair as the fine contours of her body pressed against his. He let his arms fall to her sides and he hesitantly let them close around her waist.

"Yes," she purred between kisses. "Yes, yes..."

Yes, what? Folken thought, daring to massage her buttocks, encouraged by a receptive moan. He groaned himself as her hands found a special place at the nape of his neck that she worked with.

This felt...

He felt...

Was this what Naria and Eriya had felt for him?

"Yes..."

Poor kits.

"Hey Dr. Marie, Lord Folken, Lord Dilandau's awake and he's... woah!"

Folken jumped, biting Marie's tongue and she yelped, punching his chest and stepping back, hand over her smarting mouth. They both turned to a devilish-looking Guimel, annoyance clearly read in both their expressions.

"Oops... sorry about that. You should really put a sign on the door. A simple 'Do not disturb' would suffice, or hey, you could be really creative and have it say 'the Doctor is in... literally."' Guimel chuckled at himself, beaming at Folken and Marie.

"Guimel..."

"All I can say is: It's about damn time. Geez, Folken. For a smart guy, you sure can be stupid," Guimel snorted, propping himself in the doorway and wiggling a brow.

Marie snickered, hitting Folken lightly on the shoulder and winking at him. "Kid's got a point. Now, what were you saying, Guimel?"

"Oh," Guimel straightened, playful light in his eyes dimming a bit. "Lord Dilandau's up and he's... cranky. Is he good to leave his room? We think he needs to get out."

Folken tidied his hair and without thinking, reached out to reorder Marie's as well. Marie raised a brow and Guimel gave a fake gag. "Gross, they're grooming each other. Love... ick."

"Grow up," Marie said, grinning at Guimel fondly," and that captain of yours isn't going anywhere until I check him out. I'm assuming Miguel is up because Dilandau is, but is Shesta awake as well?"

Guimel snorted lightly as he thought of Miguel. "Miguel's taking a bath, and I think he's going to be in there for a while."

"And Shesta?"

Guimel shrugged. "I don't know– he's probably up. Me and him aren't on such good terms right now."

Marie rolled her eyes. "Toddlers, the whole lot of you."

"Gonna spank us now, Momma?– or is Daddy first in line?"

Guimel bolted from the doorway before Marie could throw a slipper at him. She turned to Folken, amused smile on her marvelous lips. "Maybe I should spank _you_ for giving me 7 children."

"You can only spank me, if I leave. I'm not going anywhere."

Marie took his hand, caressing the fingers before moving to get her lab coat. She shrugged the white jacket over her shoulders and peered at Folken. "We weren't through talking before, Folken, about Dilandau and his brother and twin sister. When are you going to tell him?– because not telling him isn't an option, not for you."

Folken gazed at the hand she'd touched, memories of his talk with Allen Schezar souring his thoughts. Allen and Dilandau were so similar it hurt Folken for them not to notice it, and if Allen had reacted that badly, what would Dilandau do?

He would be angry at Folken for not telling him when he first knew, but after that?– after Folken had to tell Dilandau of Allen's negative reaction? Folken knew what it felt like to be rejected by family. It was a brutal internal blow, forceful enough to bring false blood to one's lips.

It would hurt Dilandau; it would hurt him deeply, and Folken didn't want to do that to him.

But was it better to live without family or to live knowing that your only surviving family hated every fiber of your very being?

Folken longed to know what it would be like to live in the answer of the former part of the question, for the latter part he was already experiencing.

"I don't want to break his heart, Marie," Folken finally said.

"He would rather know, Folken."

Marie was right; Dilandau would want to know, but... Not just yet. Folken had to give him time to recover, to be stronger...

"I'll tell him when the right time comes."

Marie paused in deliberating on if she should pack a mask and gloves in her brown bag. Shesta had a throat infection that Marie was sure had past the contagious stage... She decided not to pack the precautions... Dilandau had probably been exposed to much worse than Shesta in his short time in Astoria, and mask and gloves were not going to prevent him from getting ill, if it was fated to happen.

Fate.

Folken hated that word.

"Fine, Folken. I trust you to do the right thing by him." Marie buttoned her coat. "You coming?"

"Yes, of course."

"Think Guimel has told anyone what he saw?"

They stepped out into the hallway. Gatty and Dallet were standing near the door of Dilandau's room, chatting, but stopped when they noticed Folken and Marie.

"Hey, way to go, Lord Folken!"

"Yes."

* * *

Viole held up a sky blue shirt that laced in front and a midnight shirt with gauntlet sleeves and a V collar. Lord Dilandau made faces at them both, shaking his head and going back to searching his drawers for something to wear. "Lord Dilandau, come on. Both of these would look great on and they feel really comfortable."

They'd been at it for nearly an hour. Marie and Folken had come in earlier, checking Lord Dilandau over and declaring him fit enough for light daytime excursions within the palace grounds.

Everyone had been in the room then, with the exception of Shesta, who Marie had bragged was a great patient, and Miguel, who was probably submerged beneath mounds of colorful, perfumed bubbles, confirming that Lord Dilandau wasn't...in real danger just yet. There was still time, and they'd all rejoiced. The others soon left though, delegating the job of Lord Dilandau-sitting to Viole, once they'd discovered the mood Lord Dilandau was in.

Lord Dilandau, while being judged well enough to move about, was uncomfortable, and it was making him a bit... irritable.

"I don't want to wear either one of them."

He was also a little cross that they hadn't found his sister. It seemed, now that their leader was rational...mostly rational anyway... that he still spoke of the elusive Celena they'd found no trace of. Guimel had to eat his words and apologize to Gatty, who was past being angry and hadn't really cared either way when he received the apology. Viole wondered if Guimel had gone in and done the same for Shesta; he doubted it.

Guimel/Shesta piss wars could go on for weeks.

"Well, do you plan on going out in your underwear, Lord Dilandau? If we don't leave for breakfast now, all of the good food will be gone. Unless you want to just order room service?"

"I want to get out of here," Lord Dilandau groaned. "I don't care if we eat or not."

"Then, here," Viole tossed a black tunic at Lord Dilandau, smirking as it draped itself over his head. "Put that on; get dressed so we can go."

Lord Dilandau snatched the shirt off his head and laid it down where he knelt on the floor in front of his dresser, frowning at it. "It's cotton."

"So?"

"My pants are..."

"Here!" Viole tossed a pair of jet black breeches in his direction.

Viole stared at Lord Dilandau with desperate eyes as the other boy glared at the ensemble. Was he going to put it on or throw it away like he'd done the others? If he tossed it, Viole was going to scream.

Viole sighed in relief when Lord Dilandau began tugging the clothes on. Hissing when it came time to pull up the pants and the waistband grazed his tattoo. Viole came over to help then, placing a hand between the pants and Lord Dilandau's skin, so he could finish his tugging without the denim rubbing against his lower back. "We're going to have to get you some hip-huggers."

"Got some the other day with Van."

Viole raised a brow. "Did you now? Where are they? I never did get to see what you bought."

Lord Dilandau shrugged, rubbing at the sleeves of the shirt and scratching around the collar. "I don't know. Guess the people who took the bags put them all in Van's room or something."

Viole hummed, combing his fingers through Lord Dilandau's hair to free it of tangles and frowning as Lord Dilandau continued to scratch, the itch spreading to his belly and arms. "What's wrong."

"I itch."

"Geez...take that shirt off. Maybe it needs to be washed..."

"It's not the shirt," Lord Dilandau grumbled, his fingers ceasing their scratching motions, but Viole could tell by the way they curled and danced that they wanted to continue. "It's me. I itch, under the skin."

"Why didn't you tell Folken and Marie?"

"So they could make me stay here and inject me with more crap?– I don't think so." Lord Dilandau got down on his hands and knees, crawling to his bed and rummaging under it for one of his sketchbooks while Viole selected a pair of black ankle boots.

"You want to go out and draw after breakfast?" Viole asked, trading Lord Dilandau's boots for his sketchpad and flipping through its pages absently. He paused on the new drawings, smiling at the outlines of woman's face in one, then at the faraway study of the lean frame of a mother rocking a child on a porch swing in another. "Are these people you've seen around?"

Lord Dilandau was zipping his boots. He gazed at what Viole was looking at, frowning lightly and extending his hand for his drawings to be returned. "No."

Viole handed the sketchbook back, puzzled over Lord Dilandau's strange reaction. "You made them up?"

"No."

Lord Dilandau studied his own drawings, head tilting in contemplation. "Her eyes are wrong..."

"How about a dream?– are you still dreaming of people?"

The sketchbook snapped closed. "Yeah."

Viole didn't like the monosyllable answers he was receiving and decided to push a bit. "Are they people you know?"

Lord Dilandau's head bowed and Viole thought he wasn't going to be answered, when Lord Dilandau said, "_Knew_, maybe... _Know _might not be appropriate."

"What do you..."

"Viole, I want to get out of here."

"Ok, all right, we'll go. We have to drop by my room, so I can get my drawing stuff too. I have to show you the study I did of Helena anyway."

"Fine."

"We'll have to run, or Schezar will get all the fruit. He's taken to hoarding it as of late."

Viole watched Lord Dilandau silently trailing after him out of the corner of his eye with a worried expression that he didn't dare let the other boy see. Something else was going on with him now, and it had something to do with those new drawings or rather, what had inspired those drawings.

Lord Dilandau waited outside his room for him to grab his art supplies that he kept on his dresser, and a few candies– Helena always sent the best stuff. "Lets go."

Viole eyed the plain binding of the brown art book Lord Dilandau had tucked firmly under his arm.

One problem at a time, Viole. One problem at a time.

* * *

For some reason, the servants had brought all of Dilandau's things to Van's room, and he'd spent his evening and the better part of the morning stroking the fabric of one of the shirts he'd bought for him. He'd sighed, letting the silk slide against the skin of his arm. That was exactly how it had felt when Dilandau accidentally brushed against him, every time he turned to speak. Gods... it was how his hair had felt against the hollow of Van's neck, when he'd collapsed in Van's arms.

He trusted me to hold onto him.

Van wished he was taller, stronger, then he could have been the one to carry Dilandau down from his guymelef and bring him to the Crusade. Van wouldn't have been like Allen, just letting Dilandau go and giving him over to the Slayers. He would have held on to him.

Gatty had taken Dilandau and they had turned away, Kio leading them to Allen's quarters in the belly of the Crusade without even asking Allen's permission to use the room. The last time Van had been allowed to see Dilandau was when they'd arrived back at the palace, and then Folken was running away with him.

The Slayers had followed, leaving Van alone with his thoughts, and Allen, who was in a foul mood for some reason. He didn't seem very interested in listening to Van and had bowed out of the castle to go home. He hadn't even asked if Van wanted to come. Maybe Van needed to get away as much as Allen felt he had.

But what did Allen have to get away from pray tell?– besides Hitomi, who had done a wonderful job of disappearing. Merle had reluctantly gone to look for her. Van still owed the girl a chat, but he didn't feel he had the strength for it right then.

An hour after Allen's departure, the Slayers, sans Miguel, left the castle as well, going on a mission they wouldn't talk about. Van had gone to the Slayer hallway, thinking that with the other Slayers gone that maybe... well maybe, Miguel would need help with Dilandau. The red-haired dragon lady had sent him on his way, informing him that he was being an "annoying little shit," and Dilandau was asleep.

The answer had been the same for the rest of the night as he drifted down toward Dilandau's room hourly and was sent away each time. He hadn't even bothered to check this morning, not wanting to deal with Dragon Lady or weary-eyed Slayers from battle.

The only thing left for him to do, really, was reflect.

His mind kept replaying images of Dilandau smiling at him, laughing with him, lost in his art as he transformed Van's torso into a beautiful garden. Then– he shut his eyes tight– he saw Dilandau stumbling out of his Oreades and into Van's arms. He felt his dead weight as Dilandau's body went slack against Van's...

_Don't let me fall_.

Why hadn't he woken up? Even Allen had frowned at not being able to rouse Dilandau after a few minutes. It wasn't normal, and Folken– his face– had looked terrified. Van had never seen that kind of expression on his brother before. Something was terribly wrong with Dilandau, but no one would tell him what, and now they wouldn't let Van even see him.

What was so bad that Van couldn't be allowed in?

There was a soft knock at his door before it slid open to admit Merle. "She's back, Lord Van."

"Who's back?" Van asked listlessly. He rested his face in the tunic, wishing it smelled like him. Gods, he was hopeless. He made himself sick. On second thought, he did know exactly what Allen had to get away from. Lovesick teenagers were disgusting.

"Hitomi!" Merle groaned. Van felt a slight depression on the bed as she crawled onto it. "She just reappeared like magic– what are you doing? That's not his is it?"

"Eh..." Van gave a contemptuous snort at himself and balled up the shirt, tossing it toward one of the multiple bags beside his dresser as Merle laughed at him.

"You are pitiful, milord," Merle teased.

"I know I am; you don't have to rub it in," Van moaned piteously. "Gods Merle, what is wrong with me? I'm acting like...oh no, oh no... I'm acting like Hitomi was when she was mooning over Allen. No wonder why they all hate me!"

"Why who hates you?" Merle's tone was one his nannies used with him when he was a small child, but for some reason Van didn't take offense to it.

"The Dragonslayers and their doctor and maybe even Dilandau. They won't tell me anything and they all left without saying anything and Guimel came back alone and didn't bother to come tell me. I feel... I want..."

"Attention?" Merle batted her lashes at him slyly and Van bristled.

"What? Attention? No way, I just want them..."

"To stop what they're doing and cater to what you want, milord," Merle said for him. Van pouted and sighed when he felt Merle's tiny hand on his knee. "Van, though you are modest, you are still a monarch and it shows in your manner. I've been watching your new friends too. They are being overworked and they're scared about something. They're not ignoring you; they're busy. You remember when we were little and we used to watch the soldiers going off to fight? Remember how you tried to get Balgus' attention and he brushed you aside and you cried? He wasn't ignoring you, Lord Van; he didn't see you. His mind was somewhere else. When he came back, we approached him and he didn't even realize that you had spoken to him before he left."

Van's pout metamorphosed into a frown as he recalled the event and the stinging hurt of being rejected by his beloved teacher. Balgus had moved past him like he was little more than a bug on the floor. Van couldn't remember what he had wanted, he was sure it wasn't important, but it had been at that time.

Was he really behaving the same way now, as Merle was claiming he was?

"But... Merle, if the last time you saw me, I was... well my condition was questionable, wouldn't you want to see me just to make sure I was still alive?"

Merle tickled him and he bit his lip on the giggle that wanted to escape. "Of course I would... but as you told me before, I'm family. Family has a right. As much as you care for him, Van, he's not family to you."

Not family to me.

But what if I want him to be?

"Then ask for his hand," Merle said snidely, reading his mind. "But how can you, if you're still too much of a coward to even ask him out properly?"

"Merle!"

"Lord Van!"

He and Merle eyed each other for a long time, before Merle slid off his bed, scratching the back of her neck and giving him a quick grin. "There's nothing wrong with being in love, Lord Van. But he's not family to you, until he knows that."

She knows I'm in love?

I knew she knew I liked him, but she could guess about the "love" part too?

"Sir Allen's back too, Lord Van. He came back sometime last night, but gave these rude orders not to be disturbed, so I didn't tell you. When I saw him last, he was in the hangar near the Crusade."

I'm too obvious.

"Thanks Merle."

"Yeah, yeah. What would you do without me?"

* * *

Allen was not in the mood to deal with the antics of his men that morning and had chosen not to go to breakfast with them. He would order room service and subject himself to the adoration of the serving girl who always insisted on delivering to his room. Anything but be forced to sit in a room full of laughing, smiling people, acting like they had no problems in the world.

Some people, people directly involved in the war, could act like there was nothing going on at all, and Allen envied them.

He sat down on his made bed and stared out of the large window before him, giving him a delightful view of the palace walls. Some boys were out working with swords, poking at each other and laughing amidst armed soldiers spread across the courtyard smoking pipes and bragging about their battle scars.

This was where Allen should put his mind, into battle. He could find one of the practice rooms and work until he was perfect, until... until the last battle was the only thing he could think of.

He shut his eyes, lying back on his bed and resting his hands over his stomach as the sound of a laughing child flooded his senses.

"_Shut up, Len! We ain't listening to you, never! Think you're so big, think you're so good, just you wait!– wait til I get big! I'm gonna crush you, Len! Just you wait!"_

Allen saw the mocking child with the face of an angel, framed by a mop of messy golden curls. She stood with her legs apart, hands on her hips, big blue eyes narrowed into mean slits.

"_I gotta secret! I gotta a secret I ain't telling nobody– not even him– and you'll see! You be a knight and I'll be better! I ain't working for no king. Nobody won't ever tell me what to do!"_

_Shut up, Celena_. Allen had hissed at her. He'd torn a branch down from one of the trees in the garden, fashioned it into a switch, and spanked her good. He held her by the arm, his grasp tight as he swatted at her little bottom, hard.

She had to learn. Someone had to teach her not to say such thing to adults, though Allen had only been a few weeks shy of 16 at the time. Mother had flown from the house at the high pitch wail of Celena's cries, snatching Celena away from Allen and glaring at him like the devil incarnate. She'd hugged Celena to her breasts, and the girl child had struggled until Mother yelped in pain and let her drop.

Celena had run off, out of the garden and down the path to the family plot.

She had liked to go past the old graves into the woods and play. She knew the way home and always returned before dark, but that time she hadn't.

The sun had set and both Allen and Mother had gone out to look for her. They had even gone to the next house and asked for Mr. Calloway's help, he had hunting hounds.

Nothing. They had found no trace of her...

Until yesterday morning, when Celena had come home on her own, just after dark, 10 years late.

"_I'm gonna crush you, Len! Just you wait!"_

She hadn't lied.

Allen's hands moved from his stomach to cover his eyes.

Valeska– Celena– was a monster, a worse monster than Dilandau had been. But according to Folken, Dilandau had only been a monster when he was under her influence. How many times had he met with a Dilandau that had Celena behind his eyes? Had she recognized him? Valeska hadn't recognized him, but Dilandau hadn't seemed as if he recognized him either.

What kind of Celena had resided inside their minds? Was she asleep somewhere inside them, or was she watching, kept a prisoner in her own altered body?

Allen felt the beginning of another migraine as the thoughts ran through his head. Did this mean he believed Folken's crazy tales? Did he believe his sister had been involved in experiments that made her someone else?

He had to; he had seen it with his own eyes.

But could he believe that the spawn of one of those experiments was Dilandau?

Maybe.

But Folken, Folken wanted him to think it was more than that. Folken wanted him to believe Dilandau wasn't a twisted piece of Zaibach sin, but something that belonged to him. He wanted him to place Dilandau's name and face on the poor baby Mother had lost 15 years ago.

Allen couldn't do it.

He wouldn't.

It was lunacy, and Allen wasn't crazy. At least, he hoped he wasn't. He couldn't be, for someone needed to be sane for his family– for Celena, who he was going to retrieve at all cost.

He would spank the nonsense out of her like he had back when she was a child, and this time no one would snatch her away to coddle her. Then he would take her away, far away, and they would start over.

"Allen?"

Allen sat up in bed at the sound of Hitomi's voice through his door. She was back? Last time he'd thought about her, she had disappeared from the castle. He rose slowly, smoothing his hair and going to open the door.

The shorthaired girl stood in her short skirt and laced shoes that only reached her ankles that she called sneakers and high socks, staring up at him hesitantly. Her green eyes looked nervous as usual, and she crossed her hands behind her back. "I'm back," she said simply.

"You're back." Allen nodded.

"I went home, but I... I thought you might need me here. Maybe there are some other things I can do for you, besides visions."

Allen frowned at her stuttering. "Hitomi, you were safe at home. Why come back to this place in the midst of war?"

"Because..." Hitomi licked her thin lips and ran a hand through her hair. "Because I left without saying anything. Allen, you and I... we had something. I say 'had' because I feel it's not there anymore, if it ever was."

Allen's brows rose. Was she...? "You came back here to break up with me?"

Hitomi's cheeks flushed and she lowered her head as she nodded. "You're not attracted to me, Allen, and I don't know that you ever were. I was... I was a distraction for you."

A distraction?– a distraction from what? He was being dumped! All earlier turmoil evaporated as his mind was thrown into a deadly tailspin. "Hitomi, you've confused my feelings for you. While I admit what was once there isn't anymore, I did like you. I still like you very much."

"I know, Allen. I still like you, but I must admit my feelings for you were... shallow." Hitomi dug her toe into the carpet. "You're so handsome, and you remind of someone back home I have a crush on, and... and... someone else– someone else that has been ignoring me that I'd..."

Someone else?– Now she was saying Allen was some sort of decoy to make another man jealous? He was sure his teeth would be ground into fine powder at the end of this conversation as hard as he was gritting them.

"You see... Maybe you noticed, but Van..."

"Van!"

Allen almost laughed! Van! The only thing Van was interested in was silver-haired science projects from Zaibach. He wondered what Van would think if he told him what Dilandau actually was.

Damn... He would have to tell him, wouldn't he?

Unless Dilandau hurried up and died before Van could get any further with him. Folken had said he was dying, hadn't he?

Some parts of the conversation had gone hazy, rage had dimmed some of his comprehension.

"Yes Van!" Hitomi's soft, humble tone had been soured with acid. "What? Don't think he could like me? Or better yet, you don't see how anyone could choose him over you! Well, let me tell you something Mr. Knight of Heaven: not everyone is into the handsome playboy type; certainly not me! Van has something you will never have– sincerity! So you and your illegitimate children can go somewhere and live happy lives without me!"

With that, Hitomi turned on her heel and stalked away.

Van, beware.

Allen stood dumbfounded in his doorway. What the hell had just happened here As if he didn't have enough on his mind, now he was being dumped by teenagers for gay men, who asked his advice on how to woo freaks of nature...

His life had gone to the dogs.

He glared at the maids in the hallway, pretending not to be watching him and they scuttled away, giggling.

What more could possibly happen to him now?

"Allen, Merle told me you were back. Can I... talk to you?– over breakfast, maybe?"

Allen groaned, slumping against his doorframe as Van Fanel came jogging to his door, his face a mask of teenage angst.

He had to ask.

* * *

"Merle says I'm being selfish, and that I need to respect the other guys. I came into the picture much later; I'm not a part of their chain yet. But, I know I wanna be, but if I keep pushing I might alienate myself even further, because I'm getting on their nerves."

Allen wished he had something to stuff in his ears, as if that would help. The noise in his head was just as loud as Van's voice. Dumped, tortured, and plotting a rescue... a rescue where he didn't know where to start, who he was after, or what to do.

"Van, can we just get our food and go back to your room or mine. I don't really want to sit in the café with so many people. I have a headache."

"A headache? You do look a bit pale, Allen. Did you not get enough rest at home? Did something happen?"

Was Van actually looking beyond his own nose for a moment? From what Allen had heard and had time to think about, Merle had a point.

"Yes, something happened, Van, but it's my problem to worry about. You've got too many of your own," Allen said with a sigh, placing a hand on Van's shoulder. He grimaced at the dull roar of voices coming from the soldiers' cafeteria.

Van flashed him a frown of concern. "Allen, we can order room service. I didn't know; you didn't tell me you weren't..." He pushed open the door and paused, eyes landing on something that intrigued him. "My gods... it's him. Allen, it's Dilandau! He's here– and all by himself!"

Allen was dragged along after Van as he rushed into the room. Grunts of greetings sprang from every direction and Allen waved a hand in a general direction to acknowledge them. Gods... did this mean Van had forgotten all about his request to get the food and leave?

Would he really have to sit in here... with Dilandau?

"Dilandau!" They approached and Dilandau turned halfway in his seat to offer them glances. He looked tired, but his strange eyes lit up a bit at the sight of Van. Allen bet Van hadn't noticed.

He failed to pick up on subtle clues.

"Are you all right? I would have come to see you, but nobody would let me. Did you sleep all night?"

Dilandau blinked, eyes cutting to Allen for a moment and moving back to Van. "Yes, I slept all night."

"Well, I guess you really didn't miss me then. Can we join you? Here Allen, you can sit on the other side of me. You're here all by yourself?"

Dilandau shook his head and nodded to the buffet where the jester Slayer, Viole, was filling two plates with food. "He's determined to stuff me like a pig."

Van chuckled at Dilandau's petulant tone and Allen frowned. "Well, if he brings you something good, I'll help you eat it; how about that?"

"No." Viole set two plates down on the table, one in front of Dilandau and one in front of the seat he was about to take. "Lord Dilandau's going to eat his food himself."

Allen stood on the other side of Van, readying his excuse to leave. Van had what he wanted now, and Allen had no desire to be near Zaibach's project and his lackey. His eyes fell upon what Viole had served Dilandau. There were no meats, or potatoes, or eggs, just fruits, nuts, breads and jams. Allen had noted a while ago that Dilandau was a vegetarian, which had surprised him a bit as he'd wanted to believe Dilandau gobbled red meat and let the blood dribble down his chin as he licked his fingers.

"Viole," Dilandau sounded bothered. "I don't want that."

"Why not? It's everything you like," Viole talked around a mouthful of eggs he'd shoveled into his mouth.

"I just don't."

Viole eyed the plate. "Oh come on, look at how I arranged everything. Nothing's touching; the bread's dry and the fruit is jam-less. I did better than Shesta; he always gets jam on the bananas."

"Do you want something else? I'm about to get up and get my own breakfast. Tell me what you want," Van offered and Allen almost smacked his forehead and groaned. He was trying too hard.

Viole made a face at Van. "Geez, Van, lay off it. You're making me sick, here. What do you want, Lord Dilandau? I'll get it."

Van blushed fuchsia and Allen rolled his eyes. He would have tried to excuse himself long ago, but Van was digging himself into a pit and leaving with the knowledge of that would eat away at his conscious for days.

"Allen and I were getting up and going that way; that's all, Viole! If you... well, I don't know what you were thinking... but I..."

"Van!" Allen interjected, holding up a hand. "Let them do what they want and lets get our breakfast. I'd like to eat this year." – and get the hell out of here as soon as I've done that.

Van glared and Allen grabbed his arm, dragging him up from the seat he'd taken beside Dilandau. "Come on, Van."

Allen wasn't picky about his meal that morning, choosing porridge and mentally cursing over the lack of strawberries. Dilandau's plate– that he didn't want!– was loaded with them. He selected honey instead, honey and cream... and a handful of almonds. Allen glanced behind him, sighing and turning to stop Van from filling his plate with things Allen had never seen him eat in the time that he'd known him. "Do not fix your plate to cater to Dilandau's wants. He's got what he needs at the table and he'll eat it, when he gets hungry enough."

Allen pressed the light smile out of his lips. Mother always said that to him when Celena was being especially difficult at mealtimes– not that he'd ever tried to cater to Celena. That feat was impossible and unwise. Once the child realized that she could get exactly what she wanted by sulking or throwing a tantrum, life with her had been hell.

"I'm not! I like bread and butter!"

"You don't like apricots and oats."

Van huffed, dumping the items he wasn't picking with himself in mind off his plate, glaring at Allen all the while. Hearty helpings of potatoes and beans filled their slots, but no meat.

Allen served himself a double helping of bacon, planning on sliding some on Van's plate. The boy king already looked enough like a scarecrow; he couldn't afford to lose any weight by taking on the vegan diet Dilandau was on.

Folken was crazy for allowing it. For someone his height, Dilandau had been too light a weight in Allen's arms.

Gah.

There he went thinking of Dilandau as a person again. Things like him didn't deserve such sentiment. Allen's initial opinion of him had been right, and he never should have made the mistake of reforming it for the sake of Van, for the sakes of his men, for... the sake of Astoria.

For the sake of Astoria.

Astoria still needed Dilandau and his Dragonslayers, and Allen had to be able to work with him. The tentative friendship they'd struck up was beneficial, and Allen couldn't forget that the boy had saved his life– twice. Although, Allen could counter that with the fact that Dilandau had tried to kill him on more occasions than that. But that was all in the past Allen had promised to forget– a past that had so much to do with the past he didn't want to remember.

They sat back down, Allen going about stirring his porridge together in an orderly fashion: honey first, then a few drops of cream– he needed something to soften the mixture, but he didn't want to taste dairy– and lastly he folded in the almonds.

"... you just don't want to eat! There's nothing wrong with any of this stuff. You want Marie to throttle me, don't you? She threatened me, you know? Took me aside and did that thing where she talks out of the side of her mouth."

Dilandau stared at Viole, unamused and unmoved, lashes dusting his cheeks as he blinked. He folded his arms over his chest and tapped long fingers on his elbows impatiently.

Van had started eating, watching the exchange with interest. He looked at Allen, as if asking permission to add something to Viole's diatribe. Allen breathed through his nose. He was sitting at the children's table by choice.

"Viole, maybe he's not hungry. Dilandau, you don't have to eat anything right now. We can have brunch or something later..."

"Oh, get your head out of his ass!" Viole snapped and Allen's eyes widened at the tone the jester was using. He was honestly upset, something Allen had never seen from him before. Van was obviously stunned too, because he shut up a moment. Wandering eyes questing for entertainment found a show in Van and Viole's bickering.

"Hey, ten bills says Viole decks the King."

"Naw, naw, ten bills says the King decks Viole."

"Hell, twenty bills says Silver Boss decks the both of them! Look at his face!"

Allen looked. Dilandau didn't seem to be focusing on either one of the two people fighting over him, but on his plate. He'd picked up the fork Viole had set down in front of him before and was stabbing at the fruit on his plate, mangling all of those precious strawberries.

Allen hated watching people play with their food. He'd seen Celena do it enough to label it a disgustingly bad habit. Without thinking, he reached past Van, snagging Dilandau's plate away from him and dropping it beside his bowl of porridge. Dilandau's half lidded eyes went wide as he turned in his chair to stare at Allen. Allen supposed he was too surprised to be angry yet, only curious to see how Allen would explain himself. Just as quickly as Allen had taken the plate from Dilandau, he'd replaced it with his own prepared bowl of porridge.

Why he did that, he didn't know. In Van's long list of the 'Likes and Dislikes' of Dilandau Albatou, Van had never mentioned porridge on either list– not that Allen would remember if he had.

Van and Viole had stopped talking and both were gawking at Allen as if he'd lost his mind.

"My gods, Schezar, you stingy bastard! All you have to do is go and ask the serving girls for more damn strawberries; you don't have to go around taking other people's food!" Viole exploded.

"Yeah, you jerk!– and try to make it better by giving him your nasty porridge..."

"Thirty bills says Boss is gonna get decked by the king and Viole!"

"Hell, I still say Silver Boss is gonna chuck em' all out! Forty bills!"

"He's eating."

Viole and Van shut up at the sound of a spoon scrapping against the side of a bowl. "That wasn't a bet, Gaddes!"

Allen bit into a strawberry, noting how sweet it was with relish and rejoicing at finding something to enjoy that morning.

"Well..." Viole said lightly, seeming pleased if not a bit disturbed. "I don't think I've ever seen you so enthused to eat porridge."

Dilandau said nothing and Viole shook his head, ruffling Dilandau's hair, and looking down the table at Allen. "What did you put in it?"

Van was attentive as well.

"Honey, cream and nuts," was Allen's simple answer as he polished off the strawberries and starting spreading jam over the bread.

"He doesn't like cream."

"Just a bit." Allen bit into the bread. Apricot jam... when had the cooks started making this? Allen hadn't had any since he was a kid.

Viole hummed and went back to his meal as did Van. Allen had finished the bread and was cutting into a pear and dipping it in the remaining apricot jam. He frowned, narrowing his eyes at Dilandau curiously, watching the boy as he carefully contemplated each bite he took. He didn't just dip his spoon in the bowl and scoop out portions of food, no. Dilandau worked his way around the porridge, scraping a little from one side, then the other, diving deep for bits of almonds and flecks of honey, while managing to keep the mess a shallow mound on his spoon before lifting it to his lips.

Allen was surprised at the mild irritation that confronted Dilandau's actions. He was eating as if he didn't want it– like Celena had when someone had just happened to stumble upon something that didn't offend her delicate taste buds.

Stop comparing him to her!

But he couldn't... something about watching the way Dilandau ate had triggered the very switch Folken had been trying to pull the other night.

There was something there, something so achingly familiar, Allen wanted to seize it and hold it captive until he knew exactly what it was. It wasn't just that if Allen closed his eyes, he could imagine his sister sitting there being bratty as ever and irritating the living daylights out of him, but something else.

Something that did deserve his attention.

Dilandau uncovered a lump in the porridge, a swell of cream and honey that had somehow clotted together. He pushed the imperfection off to the side then, scowling at the whole mess, put his spoon down with only half the bowl empty.

Allen felt a familiar pang again, and suddenly he wanted to try something. "Add a little jam to it, Dilandau; how about some of the apricot I have?"

Van made a face and Viole lifted a brow.

Dilandau frowned at Allen. "That sounds disgusting."

"Have you tried it?"

"No, because it sounds disgusting."

Allen quelled a surge of annoyance within him and smiled. "It's not. My... mother liked her porridge like that, spoiled with honey, cream, nuts, and jam."

"I don't like cream."

"You were eating it."

Dilandau was growing impatient with him; the corners of his mouth were turning downward in distaste. "Sounds like your mother doesn't like porridge much with all the things she has to put in it."

Allen thought about that. It really didn't make much sense for a body to have to alter a dish they liked so much. Could it even be considered the same food after all of the editions? It didn't taste the same.

"Well, I never thought of it that way. Perhaps she didn't like porridge. Perhaps I don't like porridge, but that would mean you don't either."

"I don't."

"You just ate half a bowl," Van was confused at the conversation and he gave Allen a searching look to try to gauge where Allen was going with this topic.

"So what? I liked it then; I don't like it now. What's the difference anyway? Can we go now, Viole?"

So fickle, but Allen now truly wondered if Dilandau would have eaten more of the porridge if he'd put a spoonful of jam in it. Allen didn't care for it, but his mother and Celena, in the right mood, would eat it up like a great delicacy.

How do I explain the similarities? Folken would want me to attribute them to Dilandau being a part of Celena, a part of Allen's family... but how could he prove it? What if all Dilandau had done was stolen pieces of Celena's personality?

That was certainly much easier to believe.

It was– in fact– better to believe, so... maybe Allen's mission was to find out just how much of Celena Dilandau had stolen and figure out if there was a way to put it back. Maybe Dilandau's being was why Celena couldn't remember Allen properly.

No good little thief.

"Allen? Allen!" Allen flinched and glared at Van who had punched him in the shoulder. "I'm going with Viole and Dilandau. I... look, thanks for wanting to listen to me this morning, but I can take it from here."

Allen blinked, realizing he'd lost time while he was thinking. Dilandau and Viole had risen, and were discussing what area of the courtyard would be best to go to catch the best light.

Van was dusting himself, preparing to follow and volunteering to be Dilandau's subject.

"You are good at holding still."

Allen's stomach churned.

"Have fun."

Van didn't hear him. He was jogging after Viole and Dilandau, trying to nod along with the conversation flowing between the two Dragonslayers.

"Ten bills says Boss..."

"Knock it off!" Allen snapped.

"Geez."

* * *

Puce is an actual color, Shesta marveled, and Miss Agatha Finch is wearing it to the debutante ball with white diamonds and lace.

How much more wonderfully dreadful could this book get?

Ah... Prince Carmine, wrapped in teal and scarlet and draped with emeralds takes notice of Miss Agatha and falls head over heels.

Well... the book was closed with a hollow thud... that's enough of that. There was only so much puce and teal Shesta could take.

He scowled at the sorry selection of literature sitting on his bedside table, wondering if someone hadn't robbed Princess Millerna's private library for his sake. If they did– they shouldn't have.

They really shouldn't have.

On the other hand, Shesta wasn't being fair. After all, what evidence at all did he have that proved Princess Millerna could enjoy crap like this?

But if the books weren't hers, then whose?

Shesta grinned at the idea that they may be Dryden's... or better yet, Allen Schezar's! Did Schezar imagine himself to be Prince Carmine? Oh gods... visions of Schezar in a teal suit, tightly fitted with emeralds on the breast plate– oh, the scarlet cape and boots!– can't forget those!

Shesta nearly fell out of bed, chuckling. He'd even given Schezar one of those phony pencilled in moustaches.

He'd amused himself so well, he hadn't heard the door open, nor took any notice of the body standing in the doorway, watching him.

"Ahem."

Shesta jumped, finally taking the tumble out of bed onto the carpeted floor. He put out his hands to cushion his landing, but he still ended up with a mouthful of fluffy carpet.

Shesta righted himself, spitting tufts of fuzz out of his mouth as Guimel snickered.

"I was sent to entertain you, but you look like you're doing a good enough job of that yourself," Fluff-head said lightly, giving a soft smile.

Shesta raised a brow, hoping he appeared somewhat dignified... in his undershirt and shorts, sprawled on the floor, covered in carpet lint. Who was he fooling? Guimel would laugh about this one for weeks.

"Uh... I've got lunch for you too," Guimel offered weakly, and Shesta then noticed the wooden tray Guimel held with a small silver cover over the entree. Shesta squinted; was it just him or did Guimel seem nervous?

"Put it on the dresser."

Guimel nodded, crossing the floor carefully and setting the tray on Shesta's wooden vanity. He was slow to turn and face Shesta again, but when he did, his face was odd... guilty almost.

"Guimel?"

"Hm?"

"Are you here to apologize for being an ass the other day?"

Guimel blinked, and Shesta grinned as he practically watched every retort Guimel wanted to snap run over his face. Here it comes...

"Maybe."

If Shesta wasn't on the floor already, he would have been there now. "What?"

Guimel rolled his eyes, clearly exasperated with Shesta. "Is it really that hard for you to believe– gods, get off the floor. I can't talk to you seriously like that."

Shesta honestly didn't know if he could get off the floor, he was that stunned– and starting to feel a bit woozy. Hah, he'd fallen head over heels for Guimel in the fashion of Prince Carmine and Allen Schezar in teal and scarlet.

"Here..." Guimel moved in front of Shesta and leaned over, grabbing him under the arms and depositing him back on the bed.

The colors of the room meshed together for moment before sorting themselves back out, and Shesta gripped his bed sheets, afraid he was going to take another tumble.

"Hey, you're not gonna puke are you?"

"Depends," Shesta murmured. "Do you really like that shirt you're wearing?"

"Actually, no."

"Good, because it's really ugly."

Guimel snorted, self-conscious hands running over his tunic. Serious sky blue eyes met Shesta's. "Shes, I'm sorry for being an ass yesterday."

Shesta was tucking his blankets around his legs. "Are you?"

Guimel said he was sorry for a lot of things, but that didn't mean he actually was. Apologizes were easy to make; harder to be genuine.

Guimel and 'genuine' started with the same letter, but that was about all the two had in common. Shesta kneaded his fingers together in his lap and leaned forward, staring at Guimel who scowled at him, blond brows drawing close together.

"Shesta, do we really have to play games?" Guimel groaned. "Gatty's not mad at me, so I don't see why..."

"Who said I was mad?" Shesta asked, batting his lashes innocently.

"Dally said you were pissed last night."

"That was last night. I felt like hell and you weren't helping matters. I feel much better today and you... are sorry."

"Yeah, I am..." for coming in here, Guimel probably wanted to add. Shesta understood his frustration, because he'd felt it before– last night when Guimel had turned his back on the team.

"I don't feel like I can count on you anymore, Guimel," Shesta said bluntly, stretching his covered legs out in front of him and flexing his feet. "Like, if I were to ask you to do something too hard, you'd give up."

Guimel rolled his eyes, grumbling a curse and writing himself an invitation to sit on Shesta's bed. He accidentally sat on Shesta's knee, and he jumped, giving the knee time to clear the way. "You didn't ask me to do something hard; you asked me to do something that I didn't see a point in. It was a waste of our time. You didn't find anything after I left, so what is there to hold in my face? I expressed an opinion."

Shesta pressed his lips together and reached behind him for a pillow to prop against the bedframe. He wanted to lean back on something soft. Guimel saw his action and stilled Shesta's arm, sliding off the bed to fluff and arrange Shesta's pillows behind his back. "I don't like your opinion."

"I know."

"It's going to hurt you."

"The only person I'm worried about getting hurt is in the courtyard with Viole and his not-so-secret admirer," Guimel said, reclaiming his seat on the bed.

"Viole has an admirer?" Shesta asked off-handedly, gazing out of the corner of his eye to revel in Guimel's irritated expression. He sighed after a moment, looking up at the plain white ceiling and trying to imagine he was elsewhere.

"Why Shesta? Why are you all so ready to believe that Lord Dilandau's going to die?"

Shesta cringed at Guimel's blatant usage of the word. _Die, dying_... both action verbs that could be used in the present and future tense in sentences where the subject was someone Shesta loved very much. How could Guimel just speak it as if it meant nothing, as if the word had no power, no meaning?

"Look at you," Guimel continued, voice bitter with scorn. "You can't even say it, can you?– yet, you're so ready to give into it."

"I'm ready to live in the real world, Guimel. I don't like it, but... I'm ready."

Shesta had come to terms. Crying in the light is the same as crying in the dark, only one's not alone in it.

"I have to be or else... I don't know. Been where you are, Guy, and I couldn't stay there. It was making me crazy. But... Well, I can't force you to join me in a place you're not prepared to be. So, I guess what I'm saying is I'm serious when I say I'm not mad at you, ok? It just really bothered me how you backed out on the team."

Guimel opened his mouth to speak, but Shesta raised a hand to silence him, "But I can't even stay angry about that, not now. Everything's going to shit and we're all right in the middle of it. I have no right to judge anyone. Gatty shrugged you off, I'm shrugging you off too. Got better things to worry about than being pissed off at you for something that won't matter in the long run."

"The long run?"

Shesta studied Guimel and the absence of scorn on his pale face. Where had those heavy bags under his eyes come from, and where was the confident smirk?

"The long run– what happens after all this. Someone besides the old people have to think of the future."

Guimel was quiet, picking at the fabric of Shesta's comforter and gazing at the wall behind him. "Did you bring enough food for two, or is that all for me?"

Guimel blinked, glancing at him dully. "Oh... it's all for you. I haven't been very hungry lately. Don't know what's wrong."

Shesta hummed lightly with soft concern. "Maybe you've caught my germs?"

"Nah, Marie says you're not too contagious, as long as you don't cough on anybody."

Shesta sighed in relief. Well, at least he wouldn't have to feel guilty about infecting the rest of his team. "Lord Dilandau's out with Viole and Van. How does he seem? Good?"

Guimel frowned. "Weird."

Shesta chuckled. "I know Gatty complained of him being cranky, but what makes you say weird?"

"I don't know; his eyes, I guess. They were... it was like he'd seen something, something wild and then it was gone. You know, like those dreams where you fall into a pot of gold and women, and just as you're about to stuff your pockets and cop a feel, you wake up and it hits you–wham!– it wasn't real. Maybe he woke up from one of those, but you wash your face in cold water and it's gone. It's not gone."

"You're worried?" Shesta asked, sitting up. "Think he's having nightmares?"

Guimel rubbed his chin. "I don't know."

"Don't know if you're worried or if he's having nightmares?"

"I don't know!"

Shesta blinked, wary of the anguished cast marring his friend's face. He'd gone too far with someone not fit for travel.

Guimel slid off the bed, standing briskly, dusting imaginary dust from his clothes for need of something to do with his twitching fingers. "Your food is still hot, but if you wait much longer it won't be. You hate cold soup. The sandwich is probably soggy now, but I only I hate soggy sandwiches... So anyway, you better eat it now. I... have to go help Dally with something. Feel better."

Shesta watched Guimel practically run from the room to be away from him. He hadn't closed the door all the way, and Shesta nearly jumped out of bed again, when Gatty stepped in, looking harassed. "What's Guimel so upset about?"

"I was an ass. What are you so upset about?"

"Miguel wants me to kill him. An ass?– how?" Gatty came to the side of the bed, brushing Shesta's bangs off his forehead and resting his hand there. "Much cooler. You didn't jump on him about last night, did you?"

Shesta shook his head, scooting over so Gatty could plop down beside him. He fluffed Shesta's pillow a bit more before reclining and tucking his arms behind his head. "What happened?"

"Same thing that always happens when jerks talk too much. You would think I'd have learned something by now, judging from that disaster with Lord Dilandau, but apparently not. I just couldn't leave it alone, Gatty."

Gatty frowned, staring at the ceiling. "Maybe because it's not time to leave it alone."

"Did you see his face?"

Gatty shook his head. "He went by too fast."

"I am such an ass."

* * *

"Man, you were so not lying when you said you couldn't draw," Viole squinted at the sheet of paper he'd torn out for Van, holding it away from his face then bringing it close. "Lord Dilandau, check it out. I think it's supposed to be you."

Dilandau watched Viole and Van's game of tug of war with mild interest.

"No! Don't look at it! I don't want anyone to see it!" Van was shouting as Viole cackled and leapt to his feet prancing out of the shade of the trees and dancing around the courtyard, waving the creamy sheet of scribbled on paper inches from Van before snatching it away. A handful of Dilandau's cadets and General Keller's soldiers dotted different areas of the space between the castle and its walls, staring at the odd couple. Viole and Van went down in a tangle of arms and legs as Van tried to strangle Viole with his bare hands and take back his horrific drawing. Dilandau hadn't seen it, but anything that could make someone react in that manner had to be bad.

He glanced at his own unfinished study in his lap. Dilandau had given up on trying to draw Van, and he felt a little guilty at seeing the disappointment on Van's face, but...his heart just wasn't in it.

Dilandau sighed softly, nails grazing the tender skin of his neck. The odd tickling sensation under his skin that had plagued him since he'd woken that morning was still there. What was the matter with him?

Last night... last night he'd spoken to Mother. He should have felt good, happy, but he didn't and he didn't know why. Every time Dilandau tried to recall the memory, to bring back Mother's face... his stomach did a flip. Something wasn't right, and somewhere inside he knew what it was.

He just had to think, to look... that was how he'd found Mother in the first place.

Another back flip. Dilandau pressed a free hand against his stomach, curious to see if he could feel its dance through his fingertips. He scratched at the skin there.

I want to have a good day, so stop it, he urged his body and his stomach did calm, but nothing soothed the itch... There was still that sense of something amiss.

Dilandau flipped to a fresh page in his sketchbook and stared at a clean sheet of paper. It wasn't long before his hand was moving over the page again. Lots of long clean strokes for the start of trees, some scribbles here and there to represent bushes... and here he was, back to the swing.

The swing and the distant figures perched on it, only this time he could identify the figures: Mother and Celena.

_Scratch_.

But– he turned to another blank page– he didn't want anymore pictures of Mother and Celena. He... he wanted pictures of Mother and Dilandau.

He repressed a grimace of discomfort and squeezed the pencil, the soft pads of his fingers throbbing from holding the drawing tool for so long.

Slowly, the soft shadows of a bedroom loomed beneath the graphite in his hands created by a small light at the bedside table where Mother sat, blankets slipping from her creamy shoulders as she held a child to her bosom. Details that had never been there before brought out a certain clarity in Mother's expression. She was telling a bedtime story and the child...the boy... he was listening, taking in her every word.

_Scratch, scratch._

Something was there that was never apparent in the Mother-Celena pictures, an emotion was present... love. Celena's face, always clear, had such hard eyes, and Mother's he could never quite see.

_Scratch, scratch, scratch._

When he found Mother, found her in real life, not just dreams... When he found her like he was going to find Celena...

Dilandau almost gasped at the flash of pain through his middle...through his chest. Gods, what? What is it?

"Lord Dilandau, next time you want to paint on someone, use me. This is incredible. How did you mix these colors? Some of it almost looks like you used a pencil to get the fine lines."

Dilandau's shoulders tensed at the proximity of Viole's voice and he looked up to find his friend standing over him. His body was half turned as he gazed at something behind him. Van appeared beside Viole, the front of his shirt unlaced and opened to expose the artwork Dilandau had done, the garden.

He stared.

"Lord Dilandau?"

Someone was walking in the garden.

"Dilandau, are you all right?"

A tall boy and a little girl were arguing.

"Oh crap, I knew it was too hot out here. Marie's going to have me for lunch!"

"It's not too hot."

"For you! You're all nice and tan..."

Dilandau blinked, shaking his head and concentrating on Van's bare middle again. He hadn't painted anyone in the garden. There were no people.

"I'm fine."

Viole knelt down beside him, ignoring his statement and touching his face then his own to compare the two surfaces. "Hmm... You don't feel hot. I do though. Dammit, Van, you trying to give me sunstroke?"

"Me? You were the one running around like an idiot. Our students are laughing at us."

"They're laughing at _you_!"

Dilandau grinned weakly at their banter as they gazed at him occasionally to make sure he was still with them. Dilandau hated the way they catered to him like a toddler. He didn't need mothering...

He just needed...

The people in the garden returned, the little girl dancing, the older brother chasing after her with something in his hand... he grabbed her and struck her with the object over and over until another shape appeared.

Mother.

They were struggling, everyone was struggling and then... the girl was gone.

The garden was empty again.

What did it mean? What the hell did any of it mean?

Dilandau rose on shaky legs, careful to steady himself before Viole could notice his tremors. Something was wrong. Something was so wrong. His belly was in his throat, and impressive leap.

He fought to ignore it, struggling to push it back down.

I want to have a good day, so stop it!

But– the garden wasn't supposed to be empty, never empty. It was Mother's favorite place; she should be there.

But she wasn't.

Dilandau swallowed hard; he let his drawing book drop so his hands could span the areas on his body that most needed their attention, nails biting deep to combat the spreading itch.

What's the matter with me? It's a stupid painting. Mother isn't there, because I didn't put her there.

But I should have.

In the dreams, he'd always seen her there, and he painted his dreams... so why was it different. Why hadn't Dilandau included her?

Something's wrong. Something's wrong...

The wind rustled the roses, calling to Mother, but she didn't come.

She wished to see me.

I had to look for her inside myself.

Why couldn't she come for me in person? Why didn't she tell me how to get to her– tell me where the garden was?

Something's wrong. Something's...

"Lord Dilandau?"

Maybe...

"Dilandau?"

No. That wasn't it. It just wasn't because it wouldn't be fair to him...

"Maybe we should go. You're getting some sort of heat rash..."

"I'm fine."

But when was life ever fair to him? He'd been given a body, but at what price?

I wanted to have a good day...

Oh gods...

"Are you sure?"

Dilandau focused on Viole who was peering up at him from the ground.

"Yeah, yeah... I do... have to go to the bathroom though." Dilandau did his best to look a bit sheepish, hoping he wasn't overplaying it. He needed to be alone.

The more he thought about it, the sicker he felt; his stomach had started a rebellion against him.

Something was wrong and he knew what it was.

Oh gods...

"I'll be back in a bit."

I'm gonna be sick.

"Hold up, I'll come with ..."

"No, stay. Finish your sketch. Looks good, I'll be back. I'm a big boy; I can wipe my ass by myself, you know?"

Frustration masked fear, fear masked grief, grief was accompanied by nausea. He swallowed hard again. "I'll be back."

He turned slowly and strode purposefully out of the shaded path they'd chosen to sit on toward the white stone walls of the castle. He didn't wave at the cadets that shouted or nod to the soldiers that smiled.

Dilandau flinched at the gust of cool air that greeted him upon crossing the palace's threshold, vision going double as he moved past the noisy hangar. A single voice was raised, but Dilandau couldn't care enough to figure out if it was in song or rant.

There was small washroom a few doors down from the hangar. Dilandau just needed to go somewhere, a place where the lights could be turned off and the door could be closed and locked without inquiring knocks.

A tall man was exiting the small room, wiping damp hands on his breeches. "Heya, Silver Boss. Nice day out, huh?"

Dilandau said nothing, pushing past the man into the washroom and slamming the door, letting out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

Oh gods...

He sank to the floor as his legs gave out.

Mother wasn't in the garden. What could keep her out of the garden?

He pulled himself the short distance across the cold stone floor to the small commode, hauling himself up so that he could rest his face against the bowl. So smooth and cool...

Had her hands ever felt like that, smooth and cool against a fevered brow?

Did he know?– would he ever know?

She wasn't there.

She couldn't be if she was with him, in him... kissing him...

Goodbye.

Soft warm lips on his forehead, bidding him farewell.

That's what's wrong.

Gods...

Porridge and orange juice found a new home along with his tears as he cried. It was all wrong and none of it was fair.

Mother hadn't told him; she didn't need to...

She died for wanting him to live, and soon he was going to die for wanting the same thing.

That's what's wrong.

Someone was knocking, but he'd be damned before he opened the door for Her. Lady Death would have to break it down.

But Dilandau hadn't locked the door, and the world spun away from him as it swung open.

* * *

Author's Note: You all know what I'm going to say now, right? What's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Let me know! Please review! 


	31. Chapter 27

Author's Note: Hey, how is everyone? If you're like me, you're grumbling about the end of summer and school starting so early... Sigh. Ah well, get it over with, I say. Ok, I think I'm going to title Chapters 26, 27, and 28 the "Longest Day" Arc. So much has to happen that I've had to break it up into 2 chapters. I hope you guys like it!

And a thanks to Skippyscat for being my beta!

Review Responses:

Strangedream: Hey girl. I'm glad you liked the chapter and I hope I answered your questions in the e-mail I sent. Thank you for reviewing and thanks for e-mailing me. I love mail :). Take care!

Kou-Kagerou: Hey Miss Lady. Don't let school kill you now. I'm trying not to let it get me, but I'm nowhere near as busy as you are chic. You are doing some awesome work, and I'd love to see more of your drawings. You know the Slayers are gonna have fun teasing the heck out of Marie and Folken...or rather, I'm going to have fun (rubs palms together). No, the war hasn't ended yet. I still shiver to approach that mess, but the strange calm is the "calm before the storm." They know the fight's coming, but they've prepared all they can, all they can do is wait now. Waiting is enough to kill a body, so they're having a little fun to take the edge off of it ;). Slayer bickering is fun...too fun. I'll have them kiss and make up... soon :D. Allen in uncomfortable situations is almost more fun than Van in uncomfortable situations, hehe! More bets to come...since the day isn't quite over. Someone's going to be very rich by the end of, and a lot of other someone's will be broke lol. This chapter is the middle of the longest day, and hopefully the next chapter will be the last of it and I'll be over this crazy hump and everything will be out in the open for everyone. Then I can... END the story! Yippee! Never thought that was coming, did ya? Thanks for reviewing chic; I always appreciate it! Take care!

Glass Angel1: Cliffhangers are fun! I don't really do many of them, so when I find a chance, I try to throw them in ;). Folken is very dense when it comes to human relations lol. Ha, Hitomi... I keep forgetting about her, but whenever she's mentioned, I remember...oh yeah...wait til she finds out Van isn't interested! Thanks for much for reviewing and I hope you like the new chapter. Take care!

Gadget 151: Lol, hey girl. You go to a school where they give you a laptop and e-mail? Awesome. When I was in highschool... yikes, lets not think about that time... but we weren't that high tech lol. They barely gave us internet access and that was only in the library, oh and in computer science. Well, I hope to hear from you again and I hope you had a great summer too! Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Pocketfirefairy: Lol! What about me and my cliffys? ;). Lol, thanks for reviewing chic. Take care and I hope you like the new chapter.

S.P. Vinter: Hey Lady, nice talking to ya again! Geez... Folken, Marie and their 7 children... but you know what...since they already have 7 kids, that means Marie won't have to worry about "having" anymore. What a good way to get out of childbirth... hmm.. Lol (j/k). Lol, that is Hitomi in a nutshell, a necessary evil! Nope no big comebacks for Hitomi except for the stuff she does to end the war, that I can briefly sum up...oh, and she must learn about Van's interests ;). Muhahaha! Then she'll go home and never want to come back. Lol, dumbass Allen may have his epiphany in this chapter ;). There's more Slayer interaction too :). I really hope you like this chapter. So much has to happen, and I'm still not through. It's the day that never ends...lol. Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Renluva: Lol, I'm not bummed. Any review is a good review :). I'm grateful that you gave me a shout out. I'm impressed if yo got through all of that chapter in 10 minutes, and I hope you get more time to read this new chapter. Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Macky: Hey, thank you! Thanks for reviewing! Take care!

Nikku: Hey chic. See, I updated this month; not as soon as I said I would though. I sat on this chapter for much too long lol. The next one may not take so long now that school is starting and I have hour and thirty minute breaks between classes. I get a LOT of writing done in those breaks with nothing else to do. The end is near... after the Longest Day Arc is over in the next chapter, I can start shutting down shop. Lol, yes, Shesta/Guimel wars last forever and usually conclude by being forgotten because it's taken so long for them to come to a consensus. Merle is becoming an interesting character for me to pop in every now and again; I'm glad you like her. Hitomi...bah humbug. I shouldn't have used the word "vegan." I only meant it in the vegetarian sense; I forgot it was a whole set of beliefs. Dilandau refuses to eat flesh, dairy he just doesn't care for, but has no real problem with it. Sorry for the confusion. Lol, ah the soldiers are affected by war, but you have to be able to laugh and make light of things, or you'll go nuts. Who says Viole is the only thing that irritates Miguel? ;). And what's Viole care about being nice to Van lol? The Miguel/Van has faded; though Van thinks he's being secretive about his crush, just about everyone in the castle knows about it by now. There will be more on that in the next chapter. Hehehe, you'll see who finds Dilandau in a bit :). Glad you liked Allen's rant. He's fun to get riled up. Sorry this took so long to get up and thank you so much for reviewing. Love ya chica!

KentouKurige: Hello! Lol, I'm really glad you enjoy the story. I wish I could update more, but there's just not enough hours in the day to get to work on everything that needs to be done. I've been trying so hard to finish this story, and new aspects to explore keep popping up. I will try t keep my updates regular though. Thanks for reviewing and take care!

Jhaylin: Lol! I have to find a way to add in more cliffhangers, muhahahaha! Anyways, thanks for reviewing and I hope what happens in the chapter is enough to make up for the last :). Take care!

Higashikaze: Lol, Marie and Folken will get married and the banner attached to the limo will say: About Damn Time! So glad you're fond of Marie. She was a kinda added in character that was never supposed to be anything special, but she grew on me, and it makes me smile to know that she's grown on you too. The itch– mental, lol. Bwahaha, Van is so fun. His obsession... I actually sit and think of what new, creepy/weird thing he could do next to amuse myself lol. Sniff, sniff... Celena and Valeska...punks... snickering behind her hand... :'). Lol, well the previous chapter wasn't supposed to be a filler, it was a lead in for this one which will conclude in the next. The Longest Day, I'm calling it lol. I'm glad you still like the story, and actually... you can read "If I Didn't Know Better." Your reason for not liking the Dilan/Van pairing was different from what I thought it was. "If I Didn't Know..." is just a cute short story about an outing the two had :). Take care and thanks for reviewing!

SkippysCat: Hey! As usual, we've talked about ever inch of this review and then some. I will take this time to praise you for being a wonderful beta reader for whom I am very grateful. You really should demand payment for all the reading you do for me and the helpful hints, suggestions, and comments you make. Thanks again girl!

* * *

Chapter 27

Allen ran his hand over the large wooden steering wheel of his airship, imagining clear blue skies and endless clouds and wishing he was sailing through them, far away from this place and all the problems it brewed.

"You look like you're plotting a 'break and run,' Boss," Gaddes informed him, approaching from behind and patting his back. "Want to talk about it?"

Allen frowned at Gaddes intrusion. The man could make a little noise before he entered a room, especially if the room's sole occupant looked to be lost in thought. He turned to his first hand, leaning with his elbow on the wheel. "Talk about what?– the way my life continues to fall apart around me?"

Gaddes blinked; perhaps he hadn't been expecting Allen to be so straightforward with his answer. "Boss?" He asked, concern seeping into his placid expression, molding his face into a different mask.

Gaddes was clean-shaven that morning, exposing lines Allen had never noticed. They were not the young boys they'd been when they'd first started out together. It had been a long run, but they'd somehow survived it.

"I don't suppose I could say to you: Nothing, Gaddes. Ignore me– and have you actually go away, could I?"

Allen gave Gaddes credit for actually looking like he was considering the idea, before shaking his head and drawing a stool– that sat to the right of them– to his rear with his foot. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and chin in his hands, awaiting Allen's explanation for his dreary comment.

Allen sighed, looking back out at the sky and watching a "V" of birds fly past. What kind of an explanation could he manufacture for Gaddes that the man would actually believe. The truth was too odd to be truth, and a lie would be too real to be real at this point.

When he took too long to form a response, Gaddes spoke for him. "What happened when you went home, Boss? When you left the other day, you were ok. You were lightening up, starting to accept new things, and now it's like we're back to square one."

Allen's eyes narrowed. "Define square one."

Gaddes frowned at him, studying his expression. "If you're looking for someone to argue with Boss, I'm gone. I just want to talk to you, and if you can't do this without looking for a reason to blow up at me..."

"Define square one, Gaddes. I'm not going to get mad; I just need to know what you're talking about."

"Square One: You're back to being angry about nothing, always looking like you're chewing your face, clamming up all the time, and glaring at Silver Boss. I thought you two had a truce or something."

Allen didn't make truces with things that shouldn't exist. "Dilandau and I can never have a truce of any sort."

Gaddes frowned, inching his stool closer to Allen. "Why do you say that? You were ready to give it a shot. I saw you shake his hand, and you helped Van take care of him the other day."

Allen shrugged. "Then I learned the truth behind him."

"In going home?" Gaddes cracked his knuckles, frown deepening.

Allen began to pace the wooden deck. "Going home was only the beginning of it. Everything..." Allen reached the end of the room and turned to face Gaddes, tangling both hands in his hair and pulling hard. The fresh pain brought some clarity to his train of thought. "Everything is a mess. There's so much that I don't understand going on, and I don't know if I want to. Folken told me one thing, but I know better than to believe everything I'm told. Celena... hell, she's half crazy anyway..."

"Folken?– _Celena_?" Gaddes stopped Allen's mad babbling. "Your sister, Celena? You saw her? Whoa, Boss, is she what happened when you went home? Was she there?"

Allen started pacing again, hands still tugging at his roots. "Was she there? Yes, yes she was– all pretty and golden, dressed in rags. Finally home."

Gaddes leapt up from his stool, crossing the floor in long strides to get to Allen. Strong arms halted Allen in his pacing and forced him still, taking his hands and bringing them down to his sides. "Snap out of it and talk to me, Boss. Celena's home now and you left her alone? Why didn't you bring her here and what does any of it have to do with Folken?"

Allen took a deep breath and held it in an attempt to calm himself. He'd held himself together so nicely until then. He couldn't let Gaddes suspect that he was anything less than sane or he wouldn't believe a word Allen said.

Allen gently pulled away from Gaddes, turning and combing his fingers through his hair to straighten it. He shut his eyes and schooled his expression before facing Gaddes again. "Celena left again. Zaibach took her; she's been with Zaibach all this time."

Gaddes' eyes widened as he made an unseen connection. "Boss... did Folken know Celena while he was with Zaibach?– how about Silver Boss? They couldn't have known she was your sister, or they would have said something."

Allen was quiet and Gaddes jumped to a conclusion. "They knew and didn't say a word and you found out!"

Gaddes was right and wrong at the same time and Allen didn't know how to go about correcting him. They did know. "They knew about Celena, yes, but Dilandau doesn't know her relation to me."

"So Folken did, but why didn't he tell you? Didn't he know you were looking for her? And even if you weren't, if those bastards were holding the poor girl prisoner for all those years, you'd think Folken would try to get her out of there."

Gaddes was such a good man. He'd stacked the odds out of Folken's favor, but he was still willing to believe the man had good intentions. Allen watched Gaddes' face as the man debated on what he wanted to say or ask next. Finally, he heaved a sigh, going back to his stool and nodding at Allen from his position across the room.

"I can tell from the way you're looking at me I'm screwing it up, so how about I shut up and you tell your story, starting with what happened the night you went home. That's when things started getting messy for you, so that's what I want to hear."

Allen grunted, slowly walking back to the wheel and leaning his long body against it with a soft hiss. His body hadn't forgotten the beating it had taken in the last battle as easily as his mind had.

"Well? Do I get a story from you or do I get to bother Van's brother for one? Though the guy still kinda gives me the creeps, I'm tired of being left in the dark."

And Allen was just tired.

"I went home for peace of mind. I was sitting down, reading this silly book my father used to like..."

* * *

"We never decided on the color of the sails. Were we just gonna let Lord Dilandau pick it?"

Guimel jumped, nearly falling off the Alseid foot he was perched on at the sound of Dallet's voice so close. "Damn, Dally, trying to give me a heart attack?"

Dallet grinned as he wiped oil stained hands on his blue denim pants and slicked his hair back with axle grease from his nails. He needed a bath worse than King Van needed a freakin' clue.

"That wasn't quite the effect I had in mind." Dallet plopped down next to him, letting out the sigh of a man that had worked too hard. Guimel caught a whiff of his partner's scent, wrinkling his nose and giving him a shove away. "I was just checking to make sure you were still on this plane of existence. Been calling your name for a bit. Whatcha' thinking so hard about?"

Guimel blinked. Dallet had been calling him? He hadn't heard anything. Guimel rubbed his forehead, frowning and wondering how long he'd been sitting there. Dallet was apparently through tinkering with the Alseides.

"Well?" Dallet bumped his knee.

"You are ripe, man." Guimel chose to ignore Dallet's question as he was lost on how to answer it. He didn't know what he'd been thinking about exactly. Maybe it had something to do with Lord Dilandau or maybe Shesta. Maybe everyone. Guimel didn't want to dwell on it. He filed the thoughts away in place he didn't like to look in and only pulled upon by accident.

That was what he got for having too much free time on his hands.

"It's what happens to men when they work." Dallet looked pointedly at Guimel who tossed his arms up to the heavens as an offering of self.

"Well, what can I do, Dally? I try to help ya and you chew my face off for handing you the wrong screwy wrenches."

"You really do suck at handiwork, Guy," Dallet chuckled, throwing an arm around Guimel's shoulders and holding him firmly in place as he tried to squirm away from his strong odor.

Guimel fought his way out of Dallet's sweaty embrace only to end up with his head under Dallet's bare underarm, left cheek stuck to a nice patch of musty stubble. "Gah, Dally!"

"Say I'm your master."

"I'm not saying that shit head!"

"Oh, is that what I am?" Dallet purred, tightening his hold and laughing when Guimel hollered. "Now... mind your manners slave, and maybe I'll..."

Dallet squealed like a stuck pick and suddenly Guimel was gasping fresh air. He scrubbed at the side of his face, eyes widening at the oil coming away on his once clean palm. "Gross!"

He turned to pummel Dallet only to find him already on the ground, wrestling with Kio as a throng of sweaty men cheered them on. Reeden's hand clamped down on his shoulder. "You all right there, Guy? You went a long time without oxygen."

"Almost died; thanks for the rescue," Guimel said, staring at his soiled hands and rubbing it on the pants he wore. Oh well, they were Dallet's anyway.

Reeden invited himself to sit beside Guimel, his small eyes studying him in a curious manner that irritated the hell out of Guimel. "What do you want, Reed?"

"Ah..." Reeden shrugged, chewing on the side of his lower lip in hesitation, then deciding to go on with what he wanted to ask. "It's about Silver Boss. He's... not all right, is he?"

Guimel started for the second time that day, staring at Reeden. "What do you mean he's not all right? You talking about my leader?"

He wouldn't look at the older man for he'd see the unabashed pity in his brown eyes that Guimel couldn't acknowledge. Pity was for losers, and Guimel befriended none of that sort.

Reeden raised both hands in a non-offensive manner. "Hey, hey... I'm not talking like that."

"Then what are you talking like?" Guimel's voice was raising and he knew he was drawing attention. The sounds of Dallet and Kio's rumble quieted, as did the cheers.

"Nothing, nothing at all." Reeden shook his head, trying to smile but not quite pulling it off. Nervous hands patted the bandana on his head and he rose. "Forget I even said anything, ok? I was just– I don't know, being stupid."

"Yeah, you were being stupid," Guimel sneered, also rising; eyes narrowing. Righteous anger warmed his blood like hot coals under a kettle. How dare this man make assumptions about things that he didn't know, about things that he had no business to know! He sounded like everyone else.

He was Shesta; he was Gatty... he was Dallet!

"Everything's fine! Everything is just fine for anyone who wants to know!" Guimel yelled the first part at Reeden, and the next part at rest of the room. He was the center of attention and for once, he didn't like it. His heart pounded in his chest and something inside him kept screaming, "Run, you idiot!"

He tried, but something caught his wrist. "You couldn't wait to have histrionics in private?" Dallet's grip was surprisingly firm to be so damp.

"Let me the hell go, before I do something!" Guimel snarled, but Dallet didn't ease his grip. Instead, he tightened it, pulling Guimel to his side and marching him out of the hangar, eyes and gossip blazing holes through the backs of their shirts.

Dallet pushed him past the hangar's main entrance towards the service tunnels and released him, shoving him against the wall when he tried to storm away. "Speak."

"I lost it! Leave me alone!" The last thing Guimel needed to do was talk. He wanted to destroy something, make something else hurt like he did. There was a screaming pain somewhere in his chest. It was like someone had punched through his ribs and ripped his heart out, squeezing it to keep the blood flowing.

Dallet stood directly in front of him, fencing Guimel in with his back against the wall. He felt like a caged beast. "Move Dallet!" A firm push did nothing to unsettled Dallet's balance, instead Dallet took a step closer, invading his personal space.

"I'm not going anywhere, Guy, so I guess you might as well say something productive. I'm not looking to be here all day."

"Then get the hell out of my way and we can both leave!" Guimel narrowed his eyes at the stubborn look in Dallet's brown ones, wondering how much strength he could put into a rush. He didn't have any running room, so he wouldn't have any momentum. Dallet was too heavy to fall from something like that.

I need leverage.

Dallet was chewing his bottom lip in frustration. "Gu..."

Guimel moved forward as hard as he could, throwing his weight at Dallet and hooking a leg around Dallet's knee. He felt his good buddy wavering, balance teetering, and Guimel pulled his leg back, ready to duck out of Dallet's way and escape.

He wasn't counting on Dallet grabbing onto his elbows as hard as he did and bringing him down on top of him.

That wasn't the way Dallet played! Dallet was supposed to fall, trying to avoid bringing Guimel down with him at all cost. He'd never do anything that might injure a teammate. Guimel's eyes widened in surprise as he toppled downward, landing hard on Dallet, who was quick to use Guimel's confusion to his advantage. Guimel had the wind knocked out of him as he found himself on his back on the floor with one of Dallet's knees planted firmly in his chest.

Guimel wheezed painfully as Dallet's face inched closer to his. "So, I'm gonna guess what happened. You and Shesta had another verbal spar and he won, and now you want to take it out on a whole room of unsuspecting innocents."

Guimel snorted.

Shesta won? Shesta hadn't won anything.

"We didn't have an argument!"

Guimel did not like being on the floor... not with boys anyway. He punched out at Dallet and Dallet jerked out of the way of his fist. It was his turn to be surprised that Guimel had aimed for his face. Dallet's sudden movement gave Guimel exactly what he needed, he rocked to the left, in the direction Dallet had dodged, successfully knocking Dallet off him. He sat, lunging for his opponent immediately, taking Dallet down in a wild tackle. They rolled over the floor, fighting for who would be on top, grabbing at each others' arms in a manner that may have looked like desperate gropes from afar as they tried to keep the other from delivering blows.

They met a wall; both grunting as their backs struck hard stone and springing away from each other. Guimel climbed to his feet, glaring at Dallet as he did the same. They circled one another like boxers, waiting for an opening.

"Hey, Slayer fight!"

"Is that Guy and Dally?"

"Five bills says they were sleeping with the same woman and found out!"

"Ten bills says she's pregnant and don't know which one's the father!"

The hell?– Shit!– Guimel didn't duck the punch Dallet threw at him and grunted at the explosion of pain from Dallet's knuckles blasting into the tender bone of his cheek. That was gonna bruise!

The rage was leaving Dallet's face as he stared at his fist as if he'd never seen it before. "Guy, oh gods, I didn't..."

Guimel swung, catching Dallet in the mouth and watching him stagger backward a few steps. "Bastard!"

Dallet straightened, touching fingers to his split lip and studying the blood, before looking back at Guimel. Strangely, his eyes hadn't regained their anger. They were cool, but not unkind. "I don't know what the hell has gotten into you, but if you don't want to tell me, I can't make you."

"That's right you can't! Because... because all you'll do is play Shesta and tell me how stupid I am!"

Dallet frowned. "Shesta called you stupid?"

"He might as well! Who else lives in fantasy land but stupid people? People too dumb to know what's real and what isn't!"

"What are you talking about?"

"Shesta, Gatty, Miguel, Viole, YOU! All of you! You all think I'm so stupid, huh?" Guimel rubbed at his face, liking the pain touching the injury brought. "Well, we'll see who's stupid when... when..."

He stopped, taking notice of all of the foreign faces gathered around them, staring and whispering, some with smiles some with concerned frowns.

"What the hell are you people staring at? This ain't a show! This is... Dammit all to hell..." Guimel whirled, turning from Dallet and shoving his way through the crowd of soldiers and servants that tried to part for him. He wandered down the service tunnel, growling at anybody who dared place themselves in his path.

Someone was following him, and from the heaviness of his step, Guimel only had one guess as to who it could be.

"Go away Dallet."

"I wanna know when I'm going to be stupid."

"You're stupid right now!" Guimel roared, stopping his tracks and letting Dallet slam into him. "All of you are stupid right now, but you won't believe me until he proves you're stupid."

"Who's he?" Dallet didn't try to turn Guimel to face him, and Guimel didn't bother to make the effort either. He didn't want to see Dallet. He didn't want to see anyone.

Or maybe... maybe he didn't want anyone to see him.

"Lord Dilandau! When he's all better, we're going to laugh at you! When Folken and Marie figure out what it is they missed, or Lord Dilandau gets better on his own, we'll all laugh! He's too stubborn a bastard to just... just die! Hell would throw him back out! They don't like our kind in the afterlife. You should know that Dallet! You used to know that!"

His eyes were burning, stinging in that way that meant... no! No tears! But he could already feel them soiling his cheeks and taste their saltiness on his lips. This was Dallet's fault! Why wasn't he on Guimel's side anymore? How...

How could he let Shesta win?

Guimel turned on his friend, punching at him again, but missing his target as his vision blurred. Dammit! Both hands connected against Dallet's chest and he rushed at him, slamming him hard into the wall beside a door. Something delicate rattled, but Guimel could hardly hear the clinking of crystal on the other side of the wall over the blood pounding in his ears. "How could you..." he kept his grip on Dallet's shoulders, short nails digging into his bare skin; Dallet's shirt had no sleeves. Guimel slammed him again, only satisfied when Dallet's head rocked back and struck the wall as well.

"Feel that, Dallet? Does it hurt?" Guimel shrieked. "That's how I feel dammit! That's _what_ I feel!"

Dallet wasn't fighting him. "Fight me! Don't let me do this to you! You can't just let me win!"

Dallet didn't make a move against him.

"Fight! Gods, why won't anyone fight anymore? Why won't he fight, Dallet?"

"Guy..."

Guimel slammed him again. "Make me let go, Dallet! You can take me... you can take anything! He can take anything, but he won't! Why!"

"Guimel, listen to me..."

"Why can't he fight..."

"He's fighting, Guimel."

"He's letting it win."

"He's not letting anything win."

"But..."

"He's doing his best, Guimel, and we've gotta do ours."

"But why does our best involve giving up?" Guimel tried to yell, but he'd lost the power to. His voice was thick and heavy. It was getting harder and harder to speak and he was having trouble pronouncing the words as his lips trembled.

Dallet sighed, and Guimel gave him another weak shove before letting him go, standing in front of him with his head bowed in defeat.

"We're not giving up, Guy. No one's giving up. We're just preparing for the worst. There are two battles: one happening now and one that will happen later that will depend on the outcome of the present battle. Lord Dilandau always taught us to be ready, to let nothing take us by surprise. We're being good soldiers to our captain, Guimel. He taught us well, and it would hurt him to know that you've forgotten one of his lessons."

Guimel's breath came in small, shaky shudders. "But... this lesson sucks."

"Lessons aren't meant to be enjoyed. Why else would kids hate school so much?"

"Stop making jokes."

"I'm not."

Guimel raised his head, wiping at his eyes and dabbing at his nose, to stare at Dallet. His dark haired buddy was pale and his mouth was swollen and starting to discolor. "I won't give in."

"No one's asking you too."

"He's not going to die."

"No one said he was."

"But... but I can... If it..."

"Guy," Dallet's voice was soft, hesitant. "When you can finish those sentences, I'm here."

Guimel sighed. Leaving Shesta's room, he'd already finished those sentences. Sitting in the hangar, he'd finished the sentences. When had Dallet finished them? Didn't they do everything together?

"You're here, huh?"

Everything but grow up.

"Yeah."

When did you get so old, Dally?

"Then..."

Dallet waited patiently as Guimel shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"...please don't move."

Guimel tensed when Dallet reached out for him and grunted as he was pulled into a light hug.

* * *

"And you don't believe him?"

Allen was sitting on Gaddes' stool watching the other man pace. Gaddes stared at Allen, chewing on the end of an unlit cigarette.

"Would you? The entire thing is absolutely ludicrous..."

"But you saw Celena change right there in front of you," Gaddes pulled the cigarette from his lips, waving it at Allen. "You know what Folken says is possible."

Allen tossed his hands up in the air. "Yes, so maybe I do believe in the Fate whatever- ation process, but are you telling me you'd be willing to believe Dilandau is part of my family?"

"Well Boss..." The cigarette went back into his mouth and Allen wondered when the man would shred the rolled bundle of weeds with his teeth. Gaddes scratched his head then let his fingers wander to his forehead, rubbing the center of it. "I don't know what to say."

Allen sighed, shaking his head. "I didn't think you would." But now you understand, you have to...

"But I do know that Dilandau is a decent kid, no matter where he came from, and treating him and his people like shit isn't going to help you any. Even if he's not a part of you, maybe he can help you to understand what is."

What?

"Gad..."

"Boss, look. This is crazy; you don't understand, I don't understand, but you can't take it out on that kid. I'm trying to put myself in your shoes, and I can't. There's no way I'll ever see Silver Boss as more than a victim in all of this– a victim that needs a break. Geez, Boss, you just told me the kid's dying. How old is he?–what, 14, 15? I'm supposed to look at him and see a monster?"

Allen blinked. "Gaddes, have you been listening. He's not a real person!"

"What is a real person to you, Boss? I'm not quite sure I get your requirements for legitimacy."

Allen was incredulous. Dilandau was something born from a lab, an offspring of a twisted experiment performed on his baby sister! "Gaddes!"

"Silver Boss eats, sleeps, breathes, bleeds, loves his men, and has a great mind. Any unreal people you know do all that?"

Allen rolled his eyes. Gaddes didn't get it. "Yes, Dilandau is alive and... and he's real because we can see him, but what's inside? What makes him tick? Something like him can't possibly process things like we do. He can't have the same kind of conscience or emotion..."

"Boss! Where have you been for the past month this kid has been here? You can't really believe the stuff you're saying; you're just mad! It's real easy to dismiss him as none of your concern because he's not human, as you claim. But you're making him that way, and you know it. If you're going to judge Silver Boss that way, you'll have to judge Lord Van on the same scale. Now _he_'s really not human!– not all the way."

"Van's different!"

"How so?"

Well... Allen chewed his lower lip. He wasn't manufactured, but even that was starting to sound lame to his own ears. Gaddes was making sense and Allen was mature enough to admit it.

"Fine, Dilandau is human."

"And he's a good kid," Gaddes insisted. "You know that too, or else you wouldn't be helping Van pursue him."

Allen groaned, nodding his head in reluctance.

Allen just– he hated thinking about where Dilandau had originated. He saw little Celena as a lab specimen, a poor, sweet, innocent... Oh gods, did he just use the words "sweet" and "innocent" to describe the horrible monster that had been Cel...

He felt ill.

"Boss, you all right? You need some cold water?" Gaddes sounded a little scared.

What if...

Celena had always acted like two children: one decent, one awful.

Gods. What if...

"Gaddes?"

"Yeah, what is it?" Gaddes' hands were on his shoulders.

"I told you about my sister; how she was– two different kids sometimes. I need you to... I mean, I think I know... Gods, I think I know. I knew this morning at breakfast, but tell me. Celena was two kids, and Folken says she's been split in half. As you pointed out, how can I not believe Folken? I've seen her change, but into what?"

"Boss, I'm gonna get you some water."

"No, tell me something first," Allen reached up to cover the hands Gaddes had on either of his shoulders. "Celena was split in half, one half the ok kid, the other half the kid I wouldn't wish on a devil. Which do you think Dilandau is... if we're believing that half of Celena's personality was his?"

Gaddes chewed his cigarette, cocking his head at Allen with a light frown. "I never met Celena boss, but when you tell your stories I almost thought you were describing two different children. Judging from what I know and have seen from Silver Boss, he's the better deal and what's left... the girl you saw the other day, that's the one you'd lead to water. And when she changed into that warlord Valeska... it wasn't much of a change, was it? How different did she look?"

Allen sighed, brushing Gaddes' hands off him and covering his face. "Not very different at all. The only thing that changed were her eyes. She still looked like Celena– Father's child; Mother referred to her as Father's child. She had Mother's curls and Mother's eyes, but she was his. When I saw her, I saw Father."

Gaddes chuckled softly. "But you don't see your Father in you?"

"No," Allen patted his knees. "I take after Mother. You've never seen portraits of my Father or Celena, have you?"

"No. I've only seen your Ma. Good looking lady, and you do look a lot like her, but..."

"But?" Allen found a loose string on his tan colored slacks. How had that happened? He tugged at it, careful not to rip any seams.

"I seen somebody who looks more like your Ma," Gaddes said easily.

Allen glanced up from his work to meet Gaddes' eyes. "Gaddes– you're not me, but if this was happening to you, would you believe what Folken says, _everything_ that Folken says?"

Gaddes' eyes lost focus as he dove deep into thought. He hummed a pleasant tune, leaning on the wheel. Allen waited patiently for his answer for it would declare the winner of the duel going on in Allen's heart. Celena was two children, one good, one bad. Celena may have had two souls. Celena was not crazy and her "little brother" was more than imaginary. But...

But Folken was asking for too much.

The dead baby, could he really give Dilandau's name to the baby that the gods didn't allow a chance.

But maybe science had...

There was something going on outside the airship. The men were getting rowdy, but Allen didn't care to find out what was going on. He needed Gaddes' say.

He was tired and needed someone to do the work for him. Make his choice, because he was bad at choosing.

Hitomi, mistake. Millerna, mistake. Marlene... gods. Celena... great good gods. Mother, forgive me.

"I wouldn't believe it..."

Allen almost gasped. Gaddes didn't. Dilandau wasn't... Allen could breathe...

"...not right away. I would investigate on my own. I would talk to the kid and find out all I could about him. I'd learn who he was and... geez, Boss. You know who you grew up with. Just talking to someone about the good old days and hearing them laugh or pick at a familiar scab, it all brings back so much."

Allen choked and Gaddes slapped his back.

"Gaddes?"

"Boss, you don't know anything real about him. You don't know what he knows. Hell, I bet Folken doesn't know what he knows! Talk to him! Folken hasn't told him who you are, right? What if something you say makes him remember you? Obviously Zaibach does something to them, makes them forget. Celena forgot you, didn't she? She forgot how much time had passed, and then she started remembering. When she claimed she was Valeska, she had no idea who you were."

Allen's insides trembled.

"Talk to him, Boss. Once you do that, you'll know, and then you won't have to beat yourself up anymore."

The stool was shaking or maybe it was him. He clasped his hands together, not liking how cold they felt. The duel was over. Gaddes had declared the winner, and the winner said, What would Mother have you do?

Mother would have believed.

But Allen wasn't Mother and Gaddes said not to– not yet– and Allen agreed. He had to know more.

"I have to know more."

"That's it," Gaddes encouraged him, squeezing his shoulder. "You're a good man, Boss– a good man that attracts a lot of weird shit. I thought you'd stop at Draconians, but you just couldn't."

Allen tossed Gaddes a trying look and lowered his face into his hands, resting his elbows on his knees. He still felt a bit ill. Perhaps he should have eaten his porridge at breakfast after all, along with Dilandau's fruit.

"You still don't look good, Boss. How about that cold water I was talking about?"

Allen nodded, not uncovering his eyes. "Thanks."

"No problem," Gaddes replied easily, and Allen was sure Gaddes knew that the 'thanks' extended to more than just the water.

What if I find out Dilandau is someone...close to me? How do I act? What should I tell him?

What would he say to me?

And more importantly, what was he going to do about Celena?

Gaddes had helped a bit; it was nice not drowning alone... but gods, he was going under fast and Gaddes wasn't a good swimmer.

"Hey Boss..." A cold glass was pressed against his fingers, and Allen sat up, revealing his face and claiming the drink with both hands. He sipped slowly, puzzled at Gaddes' expression. He was hesitating.

"What is it?" Allen asked gently.

"Ah...I don't know if you care, or want to do this or not... but uh..."

"What?"

"Silver Boss, he's alone. I know it's really hard to find him alone, and..."

"And?" Allen felt something constricting his airways. He was going to talk to Dilandau, but now? It was too soon... much too soon!

But Gaddes was right; it was rare to find Dilandau without one of his men joined at his hip. What if this was his only chance without actually having to ask someone to leave?

His only chance. Allen wanted to snicker. It was not as if the boy was... dying. Shit.

"Something's wrong with him. I don't think he knew who I was, when he pushed me out of the way."

"Out of the way? Where is he?" Allen was already rising from the stool, stretching his arms and legs that had started to cramp from being sedentary for so long.

"In the lavatory nearby. I hope you don't mind that I got your water from there. I wanted to get back to you fast..."

"He's in the bathroom? You want me to bother him in the bathroom?" Allen was aghast. How comfortable would that be?

"Boss, you didn't listen to me. Something's wrong with him. I don't know why one of his Slayers didn't come in here with him. Maybe he ditched them, but I think he may need some help."

"Then why didn't you..."

"Go for help? I am. Help him, Boss; find out what's wrong," Gaddes urged.

"I'm not real help, Gaddes. What if he needs medical attention?"

"Then you'll take him to it, but as I see it, this is your easy way in," Gaddes said gently. Allen was silent and Gaddes looked heavenward. "Look Boss, if you don't go in 2 seconds, I will. I wouldn't have left in the first place, but I thought... well you know what I thought. So, what's it gonna be?"

Allen glared at Gaddes for putting him on the spot. This was his chance, and Dilandau was vulnerable. It may never happen like this again. He had to know, and gods, he wanted to know now. His entire being demanded it all of a sudden. It was like inspiration striking; do it now! But... but...

"Gaddes I hate you!"

He stalked from the ship, not bothering to look back at Gaddes for he knew the man was smirking at him.

Asshole.

"Heya Boss!" Men shouted at him.

Allen ignored them.

"What's he pissed about?"

"Hell, 2 bills says Gaddes caught Boss' weird girl from the Mystic Moon messing around with Dally and Guy."

"She ain't their type."

* * *

He was back on the Vione asleep on the shower floor. Cold water drizzled over his face and the tile was hard under his butt. The back of his head ached... maybe he'd hit it when he fell.

Only a dream then?

Astoria had been only a dream.

"Dilandau? Are you awake now? Can you open your eyes?"

Folken had come in and found him.

Bet he's pissed... but his voice sounds funny.

More water... he moaned, trying to turn his head away. The side of his face brushed against a soft shoulder draped in fine fabric that smelled of spicy cologne. Folken didn't wear cologne, and why was Folken sitting in the shower with him?

Dilandau's eyes bolted open, spots and stars dancing before them sooner than he could see his surroundings. He was... not in his shower. He was...

In a small bathroom, a washroom really, in Astoria. He'd come in here because... He gasped, sitting up and pushing the person trying to protest his movements away. On his knees, he made his way to the dark porcelain mecca as his stomach attempted to pay homage to it again.

Stomach acid, then nothing. He had nothing more to give, but that didn't stop him from trying.

Long fingered hands rubbed his back, even after he was done dry heaving. He fell backward on his rump, breathing hard, tears... tears of every meaning... running down the sides of his face. Using both hands, he scrubbed them away, over and over again.

I'm still crying.

Water was running in the sink. Someone was filling a cup. Who was here witnessing this?– Dilandau wondered in horror. He titled his head up to see a waterfall of blond hair flowing to about mid-back on a long, lean frame. The man wore tall boots and light slacks.

He turned.

"Allen Schezar."

"That's right. Are you feeling better?" Dilandau frowned at the man's tentative smile. He sank down on one knee in front of Dilandau, offering him the cup of water. Dilandau's stomach gave a rebellious lurch, telling him that he'd better not swallow any of the foreign liquid. Dilandau took the cup, sipping and swishing the water around in his mouth, then spitting it back in the cup. He set it on the floor by his leg and scooted until he could rest the back of his head against the cool wall.

One by one, he felt he was sucking the tears back in. Dilandau had to stop this. He couldn't keep crying in front of Allen. If he stopped now, maybe Allen could dismiss the tears as reflexive from pain.

Dilandau felt a quick rush of air as Allen must have stood and he heard the man shuffling around. He used that time to pull himself together. Dilandau buried his head between his knees.

You are stronger than this, Dilandau. Stronger! Every mortal thing dies! You are not a god; accept your fate! What would your Slayers say? They know; they dealt with it before you and they are strong. Viole... Viole is the strongest of them all.

If they can do it, you _should _do it _better_!

But...

A moist towel was placed against the back of his neck. "Are you going to be sick again?"

Of all the people Dilandau would have imagined taking care of him, he just didn't visualize Allen Schezar. The blond man had to have been the one to open the door, not The Lady, and he'd been there with Dilandau since. In a way, Dilandau was grateful. Allen was not panicking or causing a scene like someone else might have; he wasn't running to get Folken like his Slayers would have. And...

I bet if I asked, he'd go away.

"I don't think so. Too empty."

"I guess it's a good thing you didn't eat all of that porridge this morning." Dilandau frowned as he felt Allen massaging his neck through the towel.

"Maybe yeah, and maybe no. The porridge felt and tasted a heck of a lot better than acid," Dilandau sputtered, proud that his voice wasn't shaking, though it sounded a bit scratchy.

"Jam would too."

What was the man's preoccupation with jam and porridge? The idea of the two unlikely foods touching made him grimace. He swallowed hard, nearly gagging again at the sinus drainage clogging then finally going down his throat with a thick gulp. He felt the beginnings of a headache and the familiar pangs in his gut that warned him his body wasn't through working him over.

Dilandau was strong, stronger than his Slayers, stronger than everyone! If anyone could be calm and fearless, he could. He would! No more being a chicken shit! Nobody liked a chicken shit! Nobody respected a chicken shit! A chicken shit died without honor!

Dilandau had honor; he wouldn't cry anymore! He would not! Viole hadn't cried! But...

"Al... Allen." Damn that stutter!

"Yes?" The towel was moving up toward the nape of his neck, dampening the base of his hair.

"Th... thanks for coming in. I'm ok now, though. You don't have to stay. I'll get up and go back to Van and Viole in a minute. I might need to break up an argument."

Pitiful. I have to lie to hide my disgrace. Where's my strength? Did my Slayers steal it from me? They were handling it better! But...

"Not a good idea, Dilandau. Unless Van and your other friend are in your bedroom, that's not where you're going now."

What?

"If you're feeling better, I'll take you to your room."

The hell?

_I'll take you to your room?_

Unless Dilandau had a hearing dysfunction– which wasn't improbable for as he continued to swallow Dilandau could feel fluid building in his ears– Allen wasn't leaving and didn't plan on it.

Why was he being so nice? Then again, Allen was really trying to be different after Dilandau had saved his life, twice. Maybe this was a challenge for him to overcome. Seemed everyone was overcoming challenges, but Dilandau. He was the only loser. But...

"Allen..."

I can't keep this up. He can't stay, but he won't leave; something has to give!"Yes?"

"My room then. I'll go; I promise. Thanks." Now he'll leave; he has no more reason to stay.

"I'll walk you."

No! He can't!

"It's all right," Dilandau breathed, hoping he hadn't sounded desperate. He was cracking; his back and shoulders itched and what was left of the juices in his belly were starting to bubble.

"No, it's not. You were unconscious, Dilandau. I found you on the floor. This is the second fainting spell of yours I've been witness too, and I don't trust you on the stairs alone. I'll walk with you until we get to your room or we find one of your friends to pass you off too."

Why wasn't Allen referring to his Slayers as his men anymore?

"You keep calling them my friends..."

"You're too young to be men, and calling them your boys sounds degrading," Allen explained, sounding a bit surprised himself.

Too young to be men, huh? What about 'to die'?– weren't they too young for that too? They were allowed to take that risk every time they went into battle. Allen, Dryden, Astoria, didn't try to stop them. Folken did. Marie did.

They were too young for Folken and Marie as well.

Someone should tell Lady Death it was against the rules. Only, Dilandau heard that she was deaf. Something inside him shuddered and his eyes burned as it shattered behind them.

He couldn't do this anymore. He was strong, stronger than his men, than Viole who hadn't cried when he told him what he feared, but...

They weren't dying. Viole wasn't dying. Only Dilandau truly knew what it felt like; the others could only taste his fear and react. They didn't have to live with it until it was done, and didn't have to fight against something they couldn't win against, knowing it was futile. Every blow Dilandau struck against Her hurt like fire melting flesh. He was a fresh, green branch in a roaring bonfire doused in kerosene.

How could he win?

Dilandau could see, hear, taste, smell, and feel his loss. Others could only see and hear the echoes of his screams. They couldn't know; it was impossible for them to know.

And that's why they seemed so much stronger.

Dilandau was the one taking the brunt of the blow, the one burning, the shield.

"All right, walk with me."

It would be the fastest walk of his life. Alone– he'd mourn alone. It wasn't the same with people around, people who didn't know because they couldn't.

Dilandau raised his head, wiping his face clean with his sleeve, making a note to himself to throw the shirt away when this was done. Could he get to his feet?

It didn't matter if he could have on his own or not, Allen helped him without asking. Outside the washroom was a crowd, but their attention was directed elsewhere. There was a fight going on, but there were just too many people to see the contenders. Allen steered him beyond that, heading for the back stairwell.

Thank the gods for whoever it was that had decided to act like jackasses and start a brawl. It took the eyes away from Dilandau and the mess he was sure he'd made of himself.

The journey to his room was a quick one, and they did not run into any of his Slayers, Folken, Marie, nor Pearce. Folken and Marie were probably slaving away in the depths of that lab. Those two would never give up.

Pearce.

Who knew what Pearce did in his spare time.

"This one's mine," Dilandau whispered, he didn't trust his voice, before Allen could push him past his own door. Allen stopped, and Dilandau turned the doorknob, letting himself in.

"Thanks," he said, turning to close his door while bidding the knight farewell, but Allen had crossed the threshold as well, large hand against the middle of his back.

"Go on and lie down. I'll get you a glass of water to put on your night stand."

"You don't..."

"Lie down," Allen insisted.

Dilandau fought the shakes threatening to engulf him. He needed to get rid of Allen, but he didn't want to offend the man who was finally starting to behave normally toward him. If he was kind to Dilandau, he'd be kind to his Slayers.

His Slayers might need an Allen Schezar on their side, when Dilandau couldn't be.

Dilandau sat on his bed, holding his shaking hands in his lap. Swallow... don't choke, swallow again. It couldn't take that long to fill a glass, then Allen would go.

Allen had disappeared in his bathroom and Dilandau could hear the tap going. It was taking an eternity. The walls were trembling and more cracks appeared. They were growing, his hands arched, fingers attacking places on his body that itched the worst. He could feel skin tearing, the blood was so hot and runny, but it didn't stop him.

Gods, Schezar, hurry up!

The man appeared with the clear glass of water, setting it on Dilandau's night stand. "Maybe you should take those clothes off, if they're bothering you."

Dilandau shook his head, biting his lip against. "It's fine. I'm fine. Just gonna take a nap now. See you around. Thanks."

Allen frowned at him and Dilandau lay down, trying not to hiss as his pants scraped against his lower back.

"You really shouldn't put your boots on the bed," Allen began and Dilandau almost groaned in horror! Not only was the man still here, but Dilandau had put his shoes on the bed!

"Forgot..." Dilandau murmured, losing himself. "No shoes on the bed, House Rule 3."

"House Rule 4," Allen corrected, then produced a noise that made Dilandau focus on him again. He was still here!

"Feel better, Dilandau." He was finally leaving!

Dilandau listened for Allen's retreating steps, but carpet muffled boots and the throbbing in his ears nearly deafened him. He gave Allen 3 seconds... 4 seconds... House Rule 4. Silly me, it was House Rule 4...

Silly, stupid, worthless, loser me...

Why me?

Lying on his aching back, cramping fingers working over burning skin, head pounding, stomach churning, he wept.

Why me?

* * *

Allen paused in reaching for the door at the first sound of Dilandau's sobs. It was familiar. He turned, watching the boy on the bed. Dilandau didn't wail or howl like certain people he knew, but he wasn't silent either.

His breathing changed from a slow, steady rhythm to soft, sputtering gasps. The kind someone wouldn't hear from the other side of a door. Dilandau's face had been damp, when Allen had found him sprawled on the stone floor of the washroom, but Allen never considered that the boy may have been crying. Allen really hadn't known what to think or do. He'd tested the door to find it unlocked, after he had called to Dilandau a few times with no response.

Allen would have left. He couldn't stand to listen to people being ill, but he'd come in Gaddes place. When Dilandau hadn't answered him, he figured he may need help. Allen hadn't planned on dragging the boy up to his room, but once inside he knew he couldn't leave Dilandau alone in a washroom. He'd felt the bony ridges of the boy's spine as he'd guided him up the steps and paid careful attention to his color. Allen had really thought Dilandau would faint again, and he was ready to catch him.

Dilandau rolled over on the bed, bringing his knees to his chest, boots rumpling the comforter and Allen made a face. Allen should have removed his boots, when Dilandau didn't. No shoes on the bed...

House Rule 4.

He'd known the House Rules, granted he'd gotten it wrong; he had knowledge of the House Rules.

Allen could have shrugged it off. Shoes on beds were disgusting and anyone could make rules against it, but somehow, Allen couldn't shrug it off.

Dilandau was obviously trying to get rid of you, Allen. Maybe he doesn't like crying in front of people; you don't. Lets go.

Somehow, Allen also couldn't go.

It was wrong to leave someone that sounded like they were in so much pain. No matter how hard they pushed others away, they never really wanted to be alone.

Mother hadn't, though she'd banned Allen from her suite.

It had been so bad in those final weeks, Allen was afraid every morning he'd walk in to find she had passed on. He had taken to sleeping in her sitting room beside the door. Allen listened for her in the night, coming in when she cried out. Mother had nightmares about her children, and she needed someone to hold. In the end, Allen had held her. He never left her side, sitting with her when she was ill and letting her rest against his chest when she wept.

Mother had been so thin and fragile then he felt he knew every bone in her body. Her hair was soft as a baby's and fine like expensive silk. He'd lowered his face into it many a time, reveling in its rosy scent. His mother, so beautiful, so helpless...

So gone.

Something inside him shattered as he pushed the door to Dilandau's room closed and made his way to the bed. Allen hated hearing people cry or be ill; he hated knowing someone was in pain that he couldn't stop.

He'd failed his mother, and gods, he couldn't stand that noise!

Allen sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at Dilandau, who didn't seem to notice him. His face was on his knees, his arms wrapped around the joints tightly. Allen frowned at the skin exposed by the sleeves that had been inadvertently rolled back. Tiny spots of blood soiled the pale skin and his hand... the back of one of his hands had something in it, the skin around it swollen and purple.

The shuddering sobs didn't stop and Allen, maybe hoping to smother the hateful sound, did the only thing he could think of. He grabbed the boy by the shoulders, pulling him to his chest and holding him there tightly.

Mother had usually quieted when he did this. Hitomi did too, though it took a while... and her cries were most annoying. She wailed and moaned like a body giving birth. Mother, even in her deepest of despair, was too dignified for that. The gentle hitch of her breath and the shaking of her shoulders signaled tears.

That's why the sound Dilandau was making was so awful and must be stopped. It was Mother's sound.

"Hush now," he tried to no avail.

Now what? Allen readjusted his hold, so Dilandau could breathe. He weighed nothing, and it was easy for Allen swing himself further onto the bed and situate Dilandau in his lap. What would Dilandau think when he realized the position he was in?

Allen would have chuckled if Dilandau's arms hadn't wormed themselves around his back. The boy was pressing himself against Allen like he was a wall at the lips of an abyss his toes were dangling over. It hurt, but Allen didn't pry him away; he... didn't think he wanted to.

Allen loosened his hold on Dilandau, unlocking his hands and stroking the boy's quivering back. He felt so frail, Allen imagined he could break him if he squeezed hard enough.

What could he be crying about?

Young boys had no need to cry. Dilandau was a successful commander of a superb troop. He had their love and support. He still had every chance in the world to shape his destiny and choose what he wanted to be.

But once again, Allen had to remember Folken had said Dilandau was dying, and Dilandau had to know.

Allen sighed, his head falling forward slightly and silvery hair, fine as silk tickled his face. He closed his eyes, rocking back and forth slowly, not caring if the motions strained his back in the awkward position he was in. He could move closer to the pillows, but then he'd get his boots on the bed. Taking them off would mean releasing Mother to unzip them. She would probably panic at the sudden loss of warmth.

Allen opened his eyes, staring down into silver locks, not golden ones. He was holding Dilandau. He must have fallen asleep for a moment there for him to start imagining he was holding his mother at her weakest.

His hand stopped rubbing Dilandau's back and instead inspected his spine, moving up to the base of his neck and spanning across his shoulder to an elbow. So delicate, if Mother had been a boy... Once again, he shifted Dilandau so that he could reach behind him and find one of Dilandau's hands. Allen found the smooth one without an insertion point, running his hand along the graceful arch of the palm and the shapely slenderness of the fingers.

Elegant like Allen's own, like hers, like Mother's.

Celena's hands, what had they been like?

Rough and stubby, like Father's, even when she was 5. Allen's hands had never looked that way.

Dilandau was moving, his grip slackening as he relaxed more against Allen. Allen stopped his inspection of Dilandau's hand and put his arms back around the boy, letting his hands cross in his lap. Dilandau's breathing was deep and even.

Asleep.

He'd cried himself to sleep in Allen's arms, and Allen hadn't minded a bit.

He stared down at Dilandau, studying the curl of his lashes, the bones of his face, even the point of his nose.

Allen had never noticed before, but Gaddes was right.

He _had _seen someone that looked more like Mother than Allen did; in fact, he saw that someone every day.

Allen swallowed hard, blinking back a strange sensation in his eyes.

It seemed Allen was either extremely lucky or terribly cursed, but he wasn't going to have to interrogate Dilandau after all.

Mother wouldn't want that.

She would say...

Allen fingered Dilandau's hair.

She would say: Why couldn't you figure it out yourself?

Mother had a sixth sense. She knew weird things. She'd talked crazy talk, when Celena was a baby. That's what Father had called it, crazy talk, but now Allen wished he'd listened.

If he had, he could _have_ figured it out on his own.

The only thing he needed now, was to figure out what to do with what he'd learned.

Allen eased Dilandau out of his lap, onto his bed pillows. He watched as Dilandau turned onto his side, finding a pillow to wrap his arms around, and smiled lightly. No monsters here.

Allen removed Dilandau's boots and knelt on the floor to tuck them under the bed. His knuckles brushed against the leather spine of a book, and curious, he pulled it out while patting the boots into place.

_The Adventures of Captain Jack Sparrow_.

Well, I'll be.

Allen raised a brow at the silly caricature of the pirate on the front cover and took a seat in the armchair next to Dilandau's bed. He had never finished this book, and he was taking this as a sign of it being time.

The leather gave a large yawn as he opened the book and thumbed to the well–worn page he remembered leaving off at.

He wouldn't go until someone else came.

Mother never really liked being alone, and now Allen was quite sure Dilandau wouldn't like it either.

What was next? Allen knew he wasn't done yet. Dilandau was no monster, and Dilandau, no matter how he came to be, was a Schezar, but... what was he to Allen?

That Allen was still figuring out and this time, he wasn't just going to let the answer stare at him across a breakfast table.

Allen looked over at Dilandau, scowling when he realized he hadn't covered him. Setting down the book, he rose, lifting Dilandau just enough to slide the blanket from beneath him. He tossed the cover over the boy and tucked it in around him.

Dilandau didn't stir and Allen plopped back down on top of the book and yelped at the hard square pressing into his butt. A pain in the ass... Hmm... He wondered if this was another sign. Shaking his head, he found his place again and started to read.

* * *

Author's Note: So... here it is once again: What's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Anyway, let me know. Please review! Thanks :) 


	32. Chapter 28

Author's Note: Hello! It has been such a long time, I don't think I expect many people to be here to see this update. I really didn't expect to take so long, but this Fall semester sucked hard and it knocked the creativity right out of me. Anyways, this is the end of the "Longest Day Arc" and after this chapter there will only be two more and an epilogue. I'm almost done! All right, enough bumping of my gums, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and thank you for all of the reviews for the previous chapter!

Um... I see that the site has a system where authors can now reply to signed reviews, but I'm not sure how you guys would want me to handle that. Do you want personal replies or do you like the usual reply format. I know some people like to read author's repsonses to other readers, so... just let me know what you prefer. Thanks!

I'll put the reviewer responses at the end, so you guys can go ahead and get into the chapter now.

* * *

Chapter 28

"Shesta, I need your... oh, you've got company," Viole barged through Shesta's bedroom door, King Van in tow, freezing in his tracks at seeing Miguel and Gatty also in the room.

Shesta raised a brow at Viole from his bed, where he sat next to a scowling Miguel. Gatty laid sprawled on the floor, dead to the world. "What is it, Viole?"

"Um... nothing, never mind." Viole scratched the back of his head nervously, eyeing Van and willing him to remain silent.

Lord Dilandau had been missing for over an hour, and Viole was starting to worry. He and Van had searched all of the first floor lavatories, the hangar, the boiler room, the gardens, finding no traces of the young captain. No one had even seen him coming back into the castle after he'd gone out with Van and Viole.

Viole was trying not to panic. Lord Dilandau was on safe grounds and someone had to know where he was; Viole just hadn't happened upon that someone yet. They should still be looking, but– after an hour– the wavy-haired Slayer felt it was his duty to alert his comrades to their leader's absence.

However, Viole was hoping only to tell Shesta. Shesta would stare at him– probably call him an idiot– and undoubtably ask Viole if he'd looked somewhere stupid that had never occurred to him. Lord Dilandau would be found within 15 minutes.

Unfortunately, Shesta had ruined his plan by not being alone. Damn that Shesta.

Miguel nudged Shesta, murmuring something to him under his breath that made Shesta chuckle. Viole narrowed his eyes. Were they making fun of him?

"You talking about me, Miguel?"

His bastard of a best friend smirked at him. "Well, aren't we getting a bit big-headed since Lord Dilandau started preferring our company, Viole. What have _you_ done that's significant enough for _me_ to whisper about you?"

Viole growled. Maybe teaching Miguel to chill and be cool wasn't such a good thing after all. His insides heartened whenever Miguel made jokes or teased... but never were those jokes and teases supposed to be used against the master!

Bad Miguel!

"Seriously, Viole, what do want before you wake Gatty?" Shesta asked. Blue eyes gazed at Viole curiously then left him. "Or would you rather I asked his majesty?"

Viole started. Ah, shit. Two minutes was all it had taken for him to forget the presence of the boy king beside him.

"Hey, isn't Lord Dilandau supposed to be with you?" Miguel yawned, closing his eyes and readjusting one of Shesta's pillows behind his head.

OK, moment of truth. Do I tell what's going on, or do I make something up and excuse myself as quickly as possible?

"He went to the bathroom," Van said and Viole nearly gaped at him. The dark haired monarch gave him a tiny smile and Viole sighed.

Thanks.

"Oh," Miguel breathed softly. "A bath does sound nice. Wish I could take a real one."

"You'd get your bindings wet," Shesta said. "Then you'd have to deal with the Red Witch."

"Damn tyrant..." Miguel snorted. Viole felt a rush of concern at the pallor of his partner's face and how tired he seemed. It occurred to him that he hadn't attended to Miguel since he'd been back.

Viole left Van's side coming closer to the bedside. "How are you doing today, Miguel?"

One dark blue eye opened and peered at him in amusement. "I'm fine, Viole. It's not like I've never broken anything before. What's with all of this?"

Viole blinked, surprised. "Nothing, I'm just... I worry, ok. Just seems like our numbers aren't doing so good all of a sudden. You and Shes are down, and..."

He stopped himself, before the hole he was digging got too deep for him to climb out of. Both Miguel's eyes were opened and he no longer looked amused and Shesta was staring.

It was too late. Viole hadn't halted his shovel in time. They knew what he was going to say. Why did everything they say always lead back to that?

There was an unpleasant moment of silence in which Van cleared his throat, motioning to Viole that he'd either better find a way to say goodbye or state their original intention and get it over with.

"Ah..."

"Van," Miguel suddenly said. The boy king stiffened before glancing sheepishly over at Miguel. His cheeks colored faintly and Viole barely suppressed the eye-rolling reflex.

Those two hadn't spoken to each other directly since their kiss. There never seemed to be a time for it.

"Yeah?"

"We should chat," Miguel said. "I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, actually, and I've been putting it off, but I'm glad that I have."

Viole frowned. Miguel, presumably, wanted to talk to Van about the Lord Dilandau thing and the ground rules he and Viole had initially planned to set weeks ago.

Van ruffled his hair, stuttering, "Miguel, if this is about that night, it's ok. You were so drunk and I..."

Miguel's face burned red for a moment before he calmed. "No! Gods, no, it's not about that. Forget that! This about you... and Lord Dilandau."

Van started, gazing at Shesta to see his reaction and nearly stumbling in confusion. "Shesta... I..."

Shesta laughed. "Come off it, Van; possibly, the only person who doesn't know you have a thing for Lord Dilandau is Lord Dilandau. But you know, I don't even think that's true anymore."

"Oh my gods, you think he knows?" Van demanded, then clapped a hand over his mouth, then ripped the hand away to point at Shesta and down at the slumbering Gatty. "You know? You both know? But when, how? And why were you both encouraging me to go pursue Miguel?"

Miguel aimed a glare at Shesta. "You did what?"

Shesta grinned innocently. "Well, at first we did think you liked Miguel. I mean, you two were sending mixed signals. Then after a while, we played along to humor Lord Dilandau. He wanted to play matchmaker."

"He should play matchmaker for himself." Miguel shook his head, smiling despite himself. "Silly kid."

"How did you figure it out?"

Miguel snorted and Shesta laughed again. "The drool and puppy eyes are dead wringers."

Van wiped his chin instinctively, checking for imaginary drivel, before blushing and folding thin arms over his chest. "So what? You were making fun of me?"

Shesta had the decency to look a trifle guilty. "Only a little. We... had to make sure you were harmless, and you are."

Oh, way to boost his manly pride, Shes. Bad enough he's admitting to liking another male, but now you're calling him a sap?

Viole sat on the edge of the bed by Shesta's bare feet– shouldn't he be wearing socks– and played with a loose thread from the side seam of his breeches. He could leave Van here to humor the masses while he kept looking for Lord Dilandau. No one would miss him...

But, Viole felt the need to be there while his teammates discussed their views of Van's feelings towards their leader. After all, he had something to say too.

Lord Dilandau... was a big boy. If he felt the need to get away from them, then Viole should respect it. It was what Lord Dilandau treasured about Viole. He knew how and when to leave him alone, and also knew when to press him.

Something in his gut had been whispering to him for some time now, probably the same something that had encouraged Viole to look for Lord Dilandau for an hour before resigning himself to come upstairs for help. Perhaps this was one of those times when it was best to leave the captain to his own devices.

"Sit Van," Miguel instructed and they all waited for Van to walk around the bed and situate himself across from Viole.

"All right, so I admit to not... being very accepting and maybe even openly hostile, when I first learned of your feeling toward Lord Dilandau. I told you what my initial assumptions were and that they had changed, but I also told you why I was still against your... endeavor."

Van's dark brows drew together as and Shesta gazed at Miguel curiously.

"What was your reason, Miguel?" Shesta asked.

"Homosexuality disturbs me," Miguel revealed with a sigh. "I mean, I don't hate people that have same sex preferences, but... I just don't like it. And since Lord Dilandau really hasn't decided on a preference yet, I didn't want Van to influence his decision."

Viole blinked. He had known that about Miguel for some time, and he wasn't surprised. Most nobles were brought up to be extremely old fashioned, and even those who resisted the blue-blood brainwashing ended up with some of the gritty, prejudicial waters still seeping in through the pores and leaving imprints.

Shesta didn't look too stunned either. He just nodded his head, lips set in a soft smile of... amusement? "What's so funny, Shes?"

Shesta shook his head. "Just... thinking about how awkward it must have been for Miguel when Gatty and I thought he was mooning after Van." He lowered his head to his knees to muffle his giggles.

Miguel groaned. "Damn embarrassing is what it was! And to have the whole castle thinking... gah! But Van here has set everyone straight on his lonesome and the masses are slowly starting to leave me alone."

"The guys downstairs still call you King's Bitch," Viole couldn't help but insert and Miguel glared at him.

"They're just mad cause I keep winning all their pocket money," Miguel said. "But back to Van and Lord Dilandau."

"Miguel, you don't have to..." Van began, but Miguel silenced him with a look.

"You're good for him."

"What?" Van blinked. "I'm... are you saying that... you don't mind?"

"I haven't minded since that night I...kissed you... Van, not really. Not after watching him with you," Miguel said simply. "You give him something we can't."

Viole felt an odd pulling sensation in his chest. Lord Dilandau lit up when Van entered a room. He'd snuck out and gotten a tattoo with Van and spoke of their venture in warm tones different from the ones he used with Viole and the others. There was something in his eyes, in his voice, that hinted toward deeper feelings and maybe a little hope.

Van was a worthy distraction from Lord Dilandau's problems, and for that, Viole was pleased, but he couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. Van could help his friend in a way that he couldn't no matter how hard he tried.

"This is undoubtably your first crush," Shesta was saying, shaking Viole from his thoughts and drawing him back into the conversation. "First loves are hard, because it seems we almost always pick the most difficult of people to fall for: someone that hates you, someone that doesn't acknowledge your existence, and in your case, someone who's never known anything beyond comradery. You're not only trying to get him to recognize you, but you've got to make him _realize_ you."

Van frowned. "Realize me?"

"He has to discover that he likes you and understand what that feeling means," Shesta said softly. "Lord Dilandau knows about being the object of affection, but he knows nothing of having one."

"So... he knows that I like him?" Van demanded, looking scandalized. "I knew he playing with me!"

Miguel and Shesta chuckled as Viole patted Van on the back comfortingly. "Lord Dilandau knows about being the object of affection to people who... lets say have less than honorable intentions. He picks up on that easy; he understands that. But you're new; I don't think I've ever seen anyone but Refina look at him and want more than getting a hand down his pants."

Van blushed, ducking his head and looking away. "I... I never think about that. I just want... to be close to him. But... Well, I had this same talk with Allen. He told me Dilandau may not be ready for me, and now you're telling me the same thing. I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm going crazy. I think I'm in love, but... if he can't love me like that in return... Gods, what do I do?"

Viole was still getting over the "same talk with Allen." Schezar? "You talked to Allen Schezar about this?"

If possible, Van turned an even brighter red. "He's been helping me, giving me pointers. He told me to ask Dilandau out to the market the other night."

Viole laughed until his stomach hurt and was joined by Miguel and Shesta at the thought of Allen giving Van love lessons. Wasn't the man having love life crises of his own? The princess he mooned over was now married to a guy that reveled in rubbing Allen's face in it, and the ugly witch from the Mystic Moon had dumped him... or at least that was the current gossip in the washroom.

"Hey, it's not funny! Your leader's driving me insane! What do you suggest I do about it then?" Van demanded, covering his scarlet face with his hands.

Shesta coughed, clearing his throat and gazed at Miguel conspiratorially before leaning toward Van and stating, "Proposition him."

Viole choked, almost falling off the bed. What? Had he heard Shesta right...and had he really seen Shesta checking with Miguel for consensus and Miguel had nodded?

Van's voice was a high-pitched squeak. "What?"

Miguel waved a hand at Van absently. "Subtle doesn't register with Lord Dilandau; you have to be direct. State your intentions and let him interpret them. Force him to realize you and then he'll be forced to realize himself. The feeling you want him to reciprocate is there. I've become a... sort of gambling addict as of late, and I'd bet all of my winnings and my new sword on it."

Miguel– Viole gazed at his friend, studying the intensity of his dark blues eyes– was serious.

"The worst he can do is turn you out, Van, and I don't think he will," Shesta said.

Van's eyes darted from Shesta to Miguel so rapidly Viole would have thought he was in REM, if he wasn't awake. He didn't blame the boy king though. Viole had been thrown for a loop too. Miguel had never spoken of this with him, and he certainly hadn't known Shesta felt this way. Proposition Lord Dilandau?

Did Gatty agree?

Gods, did he agree? Probably, after he'd had more time to think about it. Van didn't have much time with... shit.

Is that what they're thinking about?

It had to be.

"Maybe one of us could talk to him for you. You know, make some suggestions to soften him for your approach," Shesta was offering.

Van was swallowing hard. "I... I don't know... I... think maybe this is too fast. I don't want to proposition him. I just... Gods, you really think he won't come around if I don't?"

Shesta and Miguel stared, Miguel reaching out to take Van's arm. "It's all taking too long, Van. I... we want to see him happy and right now, you're the only who seems to be able to do that for him. We all just... bring him down."

"He escapes with you," Shesta said simply.

Van sat back, looking at Miguel's hand on his arm. "But... as protective as you guys are, I would have thought that you'd like me to take it slow. Miguel, you didn't want me to push him..."

"He needs a push now," Miguel said.

Viole grunted. "Guys, maybe..."

"Look, is something going on? With Dilandau, I mean?" Van interrupted. "I can't help but notice something's wrong, with him, with you, with Folken. He's not eating well, he's losing weight, he looks tired, and when he fainted after that last battle, you guys were beyond scared. What's going on guys? Tell me, please."

Miguel's fingers tightened on Van's sleeve and Shesta traced the square designs on his comforter with a short pinky nail. "You... probably deserve as much."

"You want to tell him?" Shesta conferred with Miguel.

"If anything happens, he should be prepared. It wouldn't be fair..."

"Tell me!"

"Lord Dilandau's..."

"Missing!" Viole spouted. "Van and I lost him. That's what I dragged him in here for. I needed Shesta to tell me somewhere to look that I hadn't. He went to the restroom while we were outside and never came back. Help me out, Shes."

"WHAT?"

Shesta and Miguel turned on him as a unit.

"How are you sitting in here talking to us about...?"

"How long has he been gone?"

"Viole, you stupid..."

"Van, can you go put his sketchbook away in his room, while I talk to Shesta and Miguel?"

Van gaped at Viole, his face a mask of frustration and confusion. "Viole...?"

"Just do it, and come back later, ok?" Viole gave a charming smile that usually won him some favor with certain crowds. Though his friends and now Van proved not to be members of any of them. Antisocial jerks.

Van growled and rose from the bed, patting his chest where he'd opened his shirt and tucked Lord Dilandau's sketchbook instead of just holding it. Weird guy.

"You'll tell me when I get back?"

"They'll tell you get back," Viole falsely assured him, watching Van's retreat and only turning back to Shesta and Miguel after the door was closed. "What are you doing?"

"What are _we_ doing? What are _you_ doing, you dolt? Lord Dilandau's MIA and you're carrying on tea conversations with us?" Miguel demanded.

"Lord Dilandau decided he wanted to get rid of us today. I doubt he's doing anything out of the ordinary and he trusts me not to overreact. If I'm not worried about it, then you shouldn't be. He'll turn up and probably be in a better mood for it."

"Then why were you coming to ask for my help?" Shesta asked, still a bit agitated but slowly cooling off.

"I felt bad and figured you would want to know. My better sense warned me against it, but I ignored it."

"As usual," Miguel snorted, also settling down. "Ok, so why did you tell us at all then?"

"To stop you from doing something stupid," Viole sighed.

Brows were raised and Viole fought a smirk. "You guys told Van he makes Lord Dilandau happy, and can do something for him that we can't. Have you asked yourself what that something is?"

Shesta bit his lip and Miguel looked away.

They knew, but Viole still felt it necessary to voice it. "Because he doesn't know. With Van he can pretend, and Van's none-the-wiser for it. If you tell Van, then you'll take that away from him."

There was a short silence breached only by Gatty's soft snores. "You can't do that to Lord Dilandau. If Van needs to know something, Lord Dilandau will inform him. If Lord Dilandau does not inform Van, then he doesn't need to know."

Miguel sighed, looking at his hands. Shesta reached for the glass of water on his nightstand, and Viole watched the both of them for signs of dissension.

"You seem to know him best, Viole," Shesta said sadly.

Miguel nodded his agreement. "No one tells, Van."

Viole smiled at them, letting out a breath of relief. Now with that over... "_Proposition him?_ Who are you and what have you done with my friends?"

* * *

No matter how he looked at it, Van had been dismissed. He walked the short distance to Dilandau's room feeling betrayed. He had covered for Viole when he was sure Viole's buddies would have torn him apart for losing Dilandau.

He hoped they were tearing him apart now.

Without knocking, Van entered Dilandau's room. The light was on already much to Van's convenience. He'd just pop the sketchbook on the bed and be back in Shesta's room to see the carnage...

He froze, swallowing hard.

Dilandau laid curled on his side, face serene in the folds of sleep. He was every bit the god Van remembered from the Vione. How could someone manage to look so beautiful in slumber? Van was quite sure he didn't look remotely charming as he snored the night away.

He was unconsciously creeping closer, a hand outstretched to touch Dilandau. He didn't want to wake him, but he wanted to... to feel him, the rise and fall of his back as he breathed, the warmth of his skin.

"Van?"

The young monarch jumped, letting out a startled gasp at the voice— Allen's voice? His tunnel vision faded, giving him full view of the room. Allen was sitting in an armchair beside the bed, peering up at him from the creamy pages of a thick book.

"Allen? What are you doing here?" Van demanded. He shook himself briefly before continuing to the side of the bed. He gazed down at Dilandau, seeing him without the glamour of godhood and feeling a rush of concern.

He looked so breakable.

Brown fingers brushed slightly damp, silver bangs from a pale face and Dilandau stirred lightly, shifting a bit on the bed and snuggling closer to the pillow he held.

"I found him downstairs in the lavatory near the hangar. He wasn't feeling well, so I brought him to bed," Allen's voice jarred Van once again from his concentration on Dilandau.

Van reluctantly pulled his hand back and frowned at Allen. "And you stayed after you brought him here?– why?"

Allen closed the book with a dull thud and gazed at Van with a strange expression on his face Van couldn't quite decipher. "I couldn't leave a sick child alone, Van."

Van let his eyes close for a moment.

Dilandau was a sick child.

"Have you been looking for him?" Allen continued. "I should have had someone send word. I forgot; I'm sorry. I suppose you need to run out and stop his friends from tearing the castle apart."

Or Viole... But Van wanted him to suffer.

"It's ok," Van shrugged, opening his eyes. "No one's panicking yet. In fact, I was just coming in here to put Dilandau's sketchbook away."

Van undid the first few buttons of his silk shirt and extracted the art book. Where would Dilandau want it? Van's eyes roved over the neat room, finding an empty spot on Dilandau's dresser. He'd be sure to see it there. Van took a few steps away from the bed before Allen spoke to him again.

"Van, what's that under you shirt?" The look on Allen's face had been interesting as Van produced the sketchpad from his clothing and now it was curious. Van frowned looking down and spotting the tops of trees from his tattoo that were exposed. "Oh..." he grinned sheepishly. "This is the painting I was telling you about. I had wanted to show it to you before."

Van chose to set Dilandau's art book down on the dresser and turned to Allen. "Did you want to see it? It's really amazing."

Allen nodded, remaining in his seat and crossing his legs. Van came closer to him, daring to sit on the edge of Dilandau's bed. The Dragonslayers sat on Dilandau's bed all the time Van was sure, so Dilandau really shouldn't mind...

And besides, it felt good being so close to him. The young monarch finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it open for Allen to view his living canvas.

He grinned, gazing at Allen, expecting to see his eyes wide with awe and appreciation, maybe even some respect, but instead they were dark with a strange emotion so overwhelming Van quickly grabbed the folds of his shirt and tried to pull it closed. Allen's hands were swifter. He held Van's arms at his sides as he leaned in to get a better look. Slowly, one of his long-fingered hands let go of Van's arm and moved to trace the outline of a swing on Van's torso. Van shivered at the coolness of that fingertip.

"Al...Allen..." Van breathed. "What..." Gods, what are you doing? What's wrong? Why do you look like that? What do I ask this man?

"What did Dilandau say this was of? Has he been to this place? Did he tell you when?" Allen's other hand, the one that still held one of Van's arms, squeezed.

Van stuttered. "I... He said he dreamed it. He only paints dreams. Get off me!" Van shoved the knight back, glaring at him and rubbing his arm where Allen had held it. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Allen was still transfixed with the fake tattoo, so Van buttoned his shirt to get Allen's attention. "Allen?"

"He only paints dreams... That book over there is his artwork?" Allen's head whipped toward the dresser and before Van could answer, the man was across the room, retrieving the book. Van gapped, jumping to his feet in vain to stop the knight before he could violate Dilandau's privacy and flip through his sketches. Van hadn't even seen all of those sketches!- only the one Dilandau had been working on earlier that day.

Allen's body was like living stone, his back stiff and rigid as he flipped through the creamy pages of the sketchbook, eyes rapidly roving over the pictures. Van ambled over, hands reaching out to shut the book on Allen's fingers, but curiosity stopped them cold. He wanted to see what had Allen so worked up. Dilandau was a wonderful artist, but... nothing he had seen so far had inspired a reaction from him such as Allen's.

Van stared down at pages and pages of charcoal studies of a woman and child, a little girl... Their faces were often blurry and unclear, but the garden and various rooms in a house were bold, unwavering images in each drawing. Allen paused on one page, a sketch of a tall boy with shoulder-length hair chasing after the girl with a stick, breath hitching. He turned the pages rapidly after that and Van ceased looking at the sketches and chose to watch Allen, frowning at his expressions: shock, fear, sadness, and the most peculiar of them all, recognition.

The blond closed the book and brought his hands up to cover his eyes briefly before whirling to stare at Dilandau on the bed. The boy had rolled onto his back, one knee bent, becoming a pole to his tent of blankets. Van pouted at not being able to see his face from this angle now, but gazed back at Allen who was biting his nails.

Allen... biting his nails?

"Allen, what is it? What's wrong?" Van touched his older friend's shoulder and was surprised to feel him quivering. "What did you see?" Maybe something in one of Dilandau's pictures had brought back bad memories, or maybe...maybe he'd had a premonition like Hitomi. She often looked like that after seeing something disturbing in the future.

Allen jumped at the sound of Van's voice, staring at him like he'd never seen him before. "Van... um..." he swallowed, pulling his fingers from his mouth and examining the nails he'd chewed. He looked back toward the bed. "I have something I need to do. Could you... can you stay here, and watch him– for me– please, at least until someone else comes to be with him. They...he... won't like waking up alone."

Van blinked, taking one of Allen's arms and wanting to lead him back to his chair. The man had grown pale as Death, pale as Dilandau, and he was shaking so vigorously now it was visible. "Allen, you're going to fall down..."

"No," Allen brushed his hands away. "I'm fine. I'm more than fine. Just... just stay with him and... just stay until someone else comes. Please?"

Van's stomach churned with concern. First Dilandau, now Allen... He opened his mouth and closed it. "Y...yeah, fine. Of course, Allen. Where are you going? What do you have to do? Can I help?"

Allen was already moving toward the door and had disappeared through the portal before Van could finish his questions.

Van bit his lip, wondering if he should ignore Allen's request and chase after the knight and find out what was wrong. A soft moan from the bed dispelled his rebellious thoughts as his attention shifted to Dilandau. He walked back to the pale boy, perching on the side of his bed once again, heart skipping a beat as sleepy, ruby eyes cracked open to spy him.

"Van?"

"Hey Dilandau. How are you feeling?"

Dark lashes fluttered as wine tinted eyes misted over. "What happened to the person that was here before?"

"Allen? He left," Van said, "but it's ok. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere." Van chuckled lightly. "And I bet you'd prefer me to stuffy old Allen any day, huh?"

Dilandau's eyes had closed again, rosy lips parting to utter one last phrase, and Van leaned over him to hear it, anxious for Dilandau to thank him for staying or to agree that he preferred Van over someone else. Instead... instead Dilandau said: "...want him back..."

Van sat back, a bucket of ice water thrown onto his hopes. Dilandau wanted Allen back? What could he mean by that? Dilandau and Allen were oil and water.

Yet Allen sat with Dilandau when he was ill.

Allen had stared at Dilandau with...

Van shook his head. No, no, it couldn't be happening again. Allen wouldn't do it to him twice! He'd had Hitomi... and Van was glad he did in the long run. Van hadn't really wanted Hitomi, but gods he wanted Dilandau.

Allen couldn't take Dilandau. He wouldn't. He knew how much he meant to Van. But... Dilandau wanted Allen... and Allen had stared at Dilandau with...

No.

No.

No.

Van rested his head in his hands.

Damn the day he met Allen Schezar.

* * *

"It's about time." Folken started at Pearce's entrance to the lab, almost dropping the glass beaker he was rinsing out. The cool blond man looked uncharacteristically rumpled and Folken felt a rush of concern.

"Pearce?"

"It's about time for what?" Marie was wiping down the metal examining table.

"That you jumped Folken," Pearce said calmly, gazing around the lab and frowning in confusion. "You're throwing away the blood samples?"

"Pearce, that was crude. I do believe I'm a bad influence on you," Marie remarked, tossing away the damp rag she was using on the table and standing back to gaze at the gleaming work space. "Yes, we are throwing away the samples."

"Why?"

Folken placed the last clean beaker in a metal drawer and closed it. "They are of no use to us. How did you hear about... Marie jumping me?" Folken ducked the wet towel aimed for his head and looked at Pearce.

Pearce raised a brow. "It's the talk of the castle. You really should do something about those boys of yours."

"Boys of ours..." Marie corrected with a smirk, noticing and chuckling at Pearce's appearance. "What the hell happened to you?"

Pearce leveled her with a chilling glance that Marie responded to with a laugh. "Those boys–of ours– saw fit to have a fight in the hallway behind the hangar and...interrupt a private business affair of mine."

Marie batted her lashes and came to pat Pearce on the shoulder. "Oh...so that's where you've been going to have your... meetings. I was wondering."

Folken was in the dark. Clearly Pearce's business meetings had some hidden elements of which no one was going to enlighten him. He opened his mouth to ask, but then decided that maybe he didn't want to know. "A fight?"

Pearce sighed. "Guimel and Dallet."

"Did they know they were fighting each other?" Marie wondered idly, boosting herself onto the table she'd just cleaned.

"I believe so," Pearce said. "Some of the men had made wagers."

"Who won?"

"Marie!" Folken shook his head.

"What? Don't tell me you aren't curious, Folken," Marie said, studying her nails on one hand. "Did you find out what their fight was about Pearce?"

Pearce delivered a bored look and Marie grinned. "Sorry, let me rephrase that. What was the fight about oh great and knowledgeable Pearce?"

"Dilandau," Pearce said, not rising to Marie's taunting and Marie's playful grin slipped off. "So, I will ask again, what are you doing and why?"

"We're cleaning the lab," Folken said simply, "and getting rid of things we don't need."

"It looks to me like you are throwing out a project," Pearce said, glacial eyes observing the lab which looked as unused as the day it was finished. Folken sighed, following Pearce's eyes. They had put away their testing tools, IVs, and the vitamin and nutrient supplies they used to brew concoctions for Dilandau to sample were properly sealed for storage.

It did look like they were concluding something.

Which they were.

"Pearce," Marie began, "there's nothing more we can do. The kid doesn't have much time left, and we... don't want him to waste the last of it being poked and prodded."

"What about the Knight Schezar?"

"He doesn't want any part of this," Folken said bitterly, "and we can't force the man."

"And the sister is no longer a possibility?"

"The sister is a prayer," Marie said. "If we can get our hands on her and she's a match, then everything will be great. But that's a big 'if' Pearce."

"And so you're giving up?" Pearce said, staring at them both oddly. "Does he know?"

Folken shut his eyes. He had to know. "Yes."

Pearce was silent as Folken and Marie watched him, awaiting his judgment of them. "Well? Go on and say whatever nasty thing is on your mind about us, Pearce. We tried everything. We did everything, but we're not gods! We don't have mystical healing powers! The only thing that can save that boy is..." Marie's raised voice dimmed and faded as an insistent knock came at the door.

All of their heads oriented toward it.

Folken wrung his hands nervously, thinking it was one of Slayers come to tell them something horrible about Dilandau.

He had seemed ok that morning... He couldn't have... No, not today.

He tossed a worried look over his shoulder at Marie and Pearce before opening the door and stepping back to admit a pale Allen Schezar.

"Sir Allen?"

"I... A... about Dilandau..." the tall blond stuttered, blue eyes wide and haunted. You said he needed something from me? What can I do to help?"

* * *

Allen had never been inside Folken's lab, but he'd nightmares about it on the unpleasant nights he'd gone to bed with an annoyance dealt by Folken fresh on his mind. He'd seen visions of sharp knives hanging from the ceiling, metal walls, floors and furniture with needles protruding from every surface the eye could see. He saw crystal champagne glasses full of blood and glass containers full of cloudy liquid, sustaining hearts and livers. However, the bright room with gleaming white floors, comfortable velvet armchairs that looked suspiciously like chairs he'd seen in Millerna's sitting room, 2 body-length metal tables with clean glass jars and beakers and a deck of playing cards sitting on top of them was not what he had been expecting.

Allen watched Folken and Dr. Marie running about the lab, disappearing into closets and reemerging with towels, vials, and black boxes, and shooting him the occasional incredulous glance. Both scientist had nearly fallen over when he'd come into the lab and Pearce, Allen shivered thinking of the cold man, had smirked and left soon after Dr. Marie had settled Allen onto a wide stool.

"All right, Sir Allen, have you ever had blood drawn before?" Allen started as something hard was dropped onto the steel table behind him with a loud clank. He spun around to see Dr. Marie unlatching one of those mysterious black boxes she and Folken had produced from the closet. From it, she pulled out a capped syringe and several glass tubes. She deftly inserted a tube into the syringe and set it down on the table.

"Never by needle," Allen said, forcing himself to display a calm he didn't feel as the doctor rolled up one of his long sleeves and tied an elastic band just above his elbow. Maybe he shouldn't watch. Did Dilandau watch? Did they draw his blood?

"No, he can't bare to watch– the big baby– and yes, often," Dr. Marie supplied answers for questions Allen wasn't aware he'd asked aloud. "Folken and I take blood from Dilandau daily to monitor his red and white blood cell counts."

Allen swallowed hard. Daily? Gods... Dilandau did this everyday, when Allen didn't know if he could even handle it once? He seriously contemplated leaving, but his conscious reminded him of the revelation he'd had only moments earlier in Dilandau's room while looking at sketches of himself as a teen, his mother and sister, and his home that Dilandau shouldn't have been able to produce. Then there had been that painting on Van...

There was no way Allen could deny what he'd discovered– with little shock– his heart already wanted to believe. Celena hadn't been making up ridiculous stories about a little brother hidden inside her to anger Allen, nor had Mother been crazy the day of the twins' birth.

Dilandau had been there.

Dilandau had been a part of Celena, a part of Allen's family– another lost sibling found. Mother would be proud.

Something cold and wet moistening the tender skin on the other side of his elbow jolted him from thought and he looked up at the ceiling.

"I'm guessing you don't want me to warn you first." Dr. Marie sounded amused.

"Just do it," Allen sighed and then hissed at the cool prick of something thin and sharp puncturing his skin.

"Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" Dr. Marie chuckled and Allen brought his eyes down to gaze at her as she watched his blood filter into the vial attached to her needle.

"So what's next after this?" Allen asked. "You give the blood to him and he's ok?"

Dr. Marie frowned and looked up from her work to meet Allen's gaze, her green eyes troubled. "First, we test your blood to see if you and he are the same blood type. If we can confirm that you two are a match, then we'll need something else from you."

Something else? Allen was silent as the physician switched out the tubes in the syringe. "It's called bone marrow," Dr. Marie said, after the next tube was in place. "Dilandau is beyond being helped by a simple blood transfusion, Sir Allen, but if blood is all you're willing to give..."

"Bone marrow?" Allen grimaced. He wasn't sure what the woman was talking about, but it sounded painful. "How...do you get that?"

Dr. Marie scrunched up her small nose and carefully removed the needle from his arm after she corked the last vial of blood she'd taken from him. "Well... we would have to test you first, and to do that we would have to go through the skin and puncture your pelvic bone, right here." The doctor gestured to the side of her hip, then wrapped a small bandage around his arm. She untied the elastic and Allen sat back, staring at her.

"Puncture my pelvic bone? You want to stick a needle in my bones? There's... fluid to draw from bones?" Allen felt ill.

Dr. Marie lifted a brow and nodded her head to something behind Allen and Allen looked over to see Folken approaching. "All done?"

"Yup, he wasn't too bad," Dr. Marie said, passing the vials of blood to Folken. "I was just telling him the procedure for testing marrow."

Allen felt his stomach do a back flip at the slightly pained expression on Folken's face.

"I won't lie to you, Sir Allen. The procedure is unpleasant, but as an experienced soldier I'm sure you've endured numerous wounds on the battlefield that may make the procedure seem mild."

Allen schooled his expression. "Yes, I've had my fair share of injuries and even a surgery."

"Surgery?" Dr. Marie and Folken gazed at each other warily.

"How long ago?" Folken asked.

"Months," Allen said, puzzled. "I cannot remember exactly how many. Is it a problem?"

"Maybe not. Are you on any medication at this time? Had any alcohol within the past 8 hours?"

Allen shook his head.

"Good, good..." The redhead rubbed her palms together and looked at Folken again. "Ah... so, if we find out you're a good match for Dilandau, would you be willing to submit a bone marrow sample?"

Allen flinched. He didn't like the idea of voluntarily committing himself to injury, but he had to do what needed to be done. "Whatever he needs."

Dr. Marie smiled at him, emerald eyes glistening and she turned away from him for a moment.

"What brought about the change of heart?" Folken had moved to the other side of the lab with his blood.

Allen glanced at the man, watching him staining tiny glass slides with his blood and applying drops of clear liquid from a small eye-dropper.

"What kind of a brother would I be, if I didn't?" Allen answered Folken's question with a question and did not wait for reactions from either party before asking his next question. "What are you doing?"

Folken had stopped and was staring at Allen in shock. His mouth opened and closed before he went back to his work. "Finding out your blood type by applying anti-serum to your blood and seeing what makes clots and what does not. Would you like to watch?"

"No." Allen shuddered. "How long will that take?"

"An hour to be sure. You can leave for a bit, and someone can come get you later..."

"Or we could go ahead and test your marrow," Dr. Marie suggested. She had been cleaning the work area she'd used. "Come to think of it... Folken, what did you do with Dilandau's sample? I didn't see it in the icebox."

"It's on the bottom shelf near the back," Folken said.

"Hm... not where I originally put it..." Dr. Marie rolled her eyes. "I don't know why the man feels he has to move everything I put away around. So...how about it, Allen? Want to get it over with?"

Allen stared at her a moment, then shrugged. The chance that his blood wouldn't be a match for Dilandau's and that he'd go through a painful procedure for nothing crossed his mind, but he ignored it. "How long will it take before he gets what he needs, if I'm a match?"

Dr. Marie propped her chin in her hands and set her elbows on the table, her serious eyes a sharp contrast to her playful pose. "If your reports are good, we will begin prepping him tonight. The transplant needs to be done as soon as possible."

Allen nodded. The woman was still looking at him. "Yes?"

"You didn't answer Folken when he asked you why you suddenly changed your mind. Where were you before you came in here, Sir Allen?"

"With Dilandau. I... found him in a lavatory downstairs near the melef hangar and I escorted him to his room."

Dr. Marie's brows drew together. "Found him in a lavatory?"

"He wasn't feeling well. He's asleep now," Allen assured the concerned doctor.

"And?"

"And... I saw his drawings," Allen concluded simply.

"That's it? The kid did a few doodles and you're ready to let Folken and I drill holes in your bones? Well, damn. If that was all it took, we could have had this problem solved sooner." Dr. Marie sat back, looking thoughtfully at Allen and smiling lightly.

"What now?" Allen didn't know if he should be amused by Dr. Marie's actions or unnerved. She wasn't the kind of woman he was used to.

"Just thinking that you two look alike and wondering why I didn't notice it before," she said with a shrug. "So... you really ready to drop your pants for me?"

Allen started, nearly falling off his stool and Dr. Marie guffawed.

"Hope you're not wearing embarrassing undies, Sir Allen, cause I can't draw that squishy stuff out of your bones with your pants up."

"For heavens sake, leave the man alone, Marie!"

"Oh please, after all the stuff I've heard about this guy, I'm surprised he wears a belt. He's no stranger to this."

"Marie!"

Allen stared between the bickering scientist, noting with some amusement the small flush blooming over Folken's normally stoic face. Shaking his head, he interrupted them. "Where should I sit or lie?"

"Table. I'll get you a pillow," Dr. Marie said; she slid off her stool and walked to the armchairs, tossing a smirk over her shoulder. "I'm a professional, meaning I will not get off on seeing your bare ass. So, don't worry about it."

Allen snorted more at Folken's deeper blush than at Dr. Marie's words. "I wasn't."

"Wasn't talking to you."

Oh.

"Sir Allen, I'll do this as quickly as possible and then we can all talk some more while we wait for the results."

* * *

Dilandau woke hours after he'd gone to sleep with a pounding headache and burning eyes, reminding him that he'd cried himself to sleep. He kept his eyes closed, straining his ears to listen for signs of life. He dimly recalled someone being there to witness his embarrassing loss of control and wondered if that person was still in the room. Dilandau would threaten him within an inch of his life, if he told anyone what he'd seen.

Slowly he opened his eyes, letting them slowly adjust to the light. The main light in his room that hung in the middle of the ceiling had been left on and... he heard someone rustling in the bed beside him... someone was here.

"Dilandau?"

Van. His voice was soft, cautious. Had Van...? No, not Van, it had been someone else, someone tall and strong that smelled like... Dilandau squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to quell the surge of emotions upsetting his stomach.

He'd smelled like a rose garden, like _the _rose garden– Mama's garden, he was certain. Although it was rather ridiculous. Surely other people had rose gardens; the palace had one. The man in there earlier had simply taken a walk through one and... and come in to find Dilandau on a bathroom floor after he'd...

He sat up slowly, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and praying he wouldn't be sick again. He could feel the tremors beginning again, but not as violently as before, because...

Because it was ok. Someone had held him and it had felt...

"Dilandau? Are you all right? Do you...need to go to the bathroom?"

Dilandau shook his head, not looking at Van just yet. He was trying to remember who had found him– who had held him– and why it had felt right, like a missing piece of himself had found its way back to its proper place.

A hand touched his back and Dilandau finally glanced over at Van, taking in his wrinkled dress shirt and the unruly state of his hair. "How long have you been here?"

A slow smile spread across Van's tanned face that made Dilandau blink at the king as he noticed how white and even his teeth were. He had a nice smile.

"Since Allen left, don't you remember? You woke up for a minute or so and talked to me," Van said, his hand working itself upward into Dilandau's hair and smoothing it. "You've been asleep for hours."

"Do the others know where I am? I didn't mean to..." Dilandau trailed off, stilling momentarily to savor the feel of strong fingers massaging his scalp and playing with his hair. He liked when his Slayers, Folken, and Marie did it, but none of them had been as skilled as Van.

"Yeah, they know. Gatty poked his head in to make sure you were here; apparently somebody saw you come in and tipped them off."

"Hmm..." Dilandau found himself seeking out the warmth of Van's body sitting beside him on the bed and letting himself settle against it.

Van stiffened at the contact briefly before relaxing. "Ah... feeling better?"

Dilandau frowned.

"Allen said you weren't feeling well when he found you and brought you here. You don't remember? He sat in here with you until I came."

Allen. Van did say that he'd been there since Allen had left. Allen... had found him and sat with him. Allen Schezar was the one that smelled like the rose garden. Allen... had held him and made it ok.

Dilandau shivered and Van's hand left his hair and a thin arm was draped over his shoulder. "Are you cold? Do you... want me to get my...er... Folken?"

"No," Dilandau whispered. Dilandau didn't even like Allen Schezar, not really, and he was sure the man didn't like him. Why would he hold Dilandau and how could it have made him feel complete?– like, for once in his life, nothing was wrong. "Van?"

"Yes?" Van squeezed his shoulder.

"Where did Allen go?"

Van's body went stiff again and the warm arm fell away from his shoulder. "He said he had something to do." Van's voice was stale, withdrawn and Dilandau turned his head to look at the boy king. His face had paled and his eyes were dark with some glittering emotion that confused Dilandau.

"Did he say if he was coming back? Or if he wanted me to... find him later?"

"No."

Dilandau blinked, narrowing his eyes at Van's cold face. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing."

Dilandau elbowed him in the gut, causing Van to grunt. "Then stop making that constipated face– and start rubbing my head again! It hurts and that felt good."

Van let out a startled grunt and his fingers flew to Dilandau's locks again, planting themselves deep in the roots. "You... you like me doing this?"

Dilandau chose not to dignify that with a response. He wouldn't have told him to do it if he didn't like it. The silver captain relaxed his neck, letting his head fall forward. He shut his eyes as Van guided his head to his shoulder. The young monarch was like a personal space heater; Dilandau shivered again and felt Van shifting on the bed, turning more towards him and bringing his other arm around Dilandau's waist.

Dilandau was conflicted. This was... not the same... nice, but...not what he needed. Though, somehow, he could not bring himself to shrug out of the embrace. It was warm here.

"So... Allen just left and that was that?"

"Yeah, that was that. Oh, he saw the fake tattoo on my chest and looked at a few of your sketches."

Something twisted in his gut. "Oh, he did. What did he say?"

Van was quiet for a while before he answered. "He asked what they were of and I told him what you told me that you paint your dreams."

Oh.

"And then he got an odd look on his face; I mean, he was already being weird, but he wouldn't tell me what was wrong. He just asked me to stay with you and left."

Dilandau frowned into Van's shoulder. His drawings weren't bad enough to scare a person away, so Dilandau pondered what had made Allen run. "Do you know what pictures he looked at?"

Van shrugged. "Only a few... just the ones of the garden, like on my chest, and a few of a woman and a little girl... and one of a boy about our age with his back to us."

Black and white charcoal images entered Dilandau's thoughts as he mentally flipped through his sketchbook. Mama and Celena, Mama's garden, Big Brother... "That was it?"

"Yeah."

Hmm. He shut his eyes. Van's other hand had started rubbing his back and a wave of exhaustion washed over him along with the general feeling of not being well. He was tired of thinking. When he saw Allen again, he'd just ask him what he saw in the pictures. He'd ask him why he'd held Dilandau and why it felt the way it had.

Someone had to know the answer, and if it wasn't him, it was Allen.

"Van?" So warm...

"Yes?"

"Lie down with me." So sleepy...

"Ah..." Van stuttered. "Dilandau, I..."

"Just do it. You're better than my pillows."

Slowly, Van guided his body down onto the mattress, and Dilandau turned his body toward Van's, draping an arm over Van's chest and a leg over Van's knees. Van struggled to free the hand that was in his hair and move it around his waist as the hand that was previously wrapped around his waist made its way to his hair.

"Dilandau..?" Van's voice was quivering as was his body. Dammit, he was going to make Dilandau seasick! "Is this ok?"

"It's fine. Now stop shaking so I can go back to sleep!"

Maybe he should ask for Viole. Viole could do this without nervous tremors. Why was Van trembling anyway? One would think he'd never...

Dilandau cracked one eye open, studying the blush in Van's cheeks. "Van?– is this ok– for you? I keep forgetting that you're not one of my Dragonslayers." Dilandau was willing to get off of Van, but he would not move until Van dismissed him. He was too comfortable.

"No! No, it's fine. I'm fine!" Dilandau winced. Van's voice had been shrill.

"Then calm down," Dilandau hissed. "Honestly, I'm starting to think that you want me or something."

Dilandau shut his eyes and then opened them again at Van's lack of response. Dilandau had just questioned Van's sexuality. All guys always rose to such accusations with a fervor to defend their manly pride. Dallet and Gatty would have choked and gone into detail about their sexual conquests; Shesta and Viole would have laughed and returned the comment to its sender. Guimel may have made a mock move, but Van was silent.

"Van?"

"D...Dilandau, I think I... have to tell you something."

A silver brow arched in anticipation.

"I... uh... well, I..."

Both Dilandau and Van jumped as the door to his room was slammed open so hard it rebounded off the wall. "Dilandau!"

Dilandau was struggling to sit up as Van freed him from his embrace. He glowered at Folken who stood in the doorway with Marie and... Allen. Folken bounded toward the bed, eyes gleaming with something akin to...joy? Joy and Folken were not a likely pair.

Marie was grinning from ear to ear as she stalked behind Folken, practically on his heels. The doctor sat down on the bed in front of Dilandau and Van and took Dilandau's hands as Folken leaned past Van to be at Dilandau's ear.

"We've found a match– a perfect match– for everything you need!"

Dilandau blinked, staring at Folken then Marie who squeezed his fingers as she laughed. "We've got so much to do to get you ready we need to start now, Dilandau."

"Do you understand what we're saying to you?" Folken demanded, resting a hand on Dilandau's cheek. "We're going to save you."

"A match?" Dilandau whispered, still trying to comprehend what was going on. "But, you tested everyone in the castle. Where did you... did you find...?"

"No, not her... him!" Marie pointed to the figure in the doorway– to Allen. Dilandau stared at the tall blond man and a flicker of a charcoal sketch came to mind before vanishing.

"He's perfect and he wants to give, so now you've got to do your part," Marie said. "We've set everything up already in the lab to get you prepped and while you're with us, someone will be sent in to sterilize your room. So... Van, if you could please gather his personal belongings, pencils, books, doodle pads, trinkets and... I don't know, take them to one of the Dragonslayers– they'll know what to do with them– so they won't get thrown away."

Van was spluttering again. He was sitting with his back against the headboard of the bed with Folken leaning over his lap. He scowled at his brother, he scowled at Marie and lastly at Allen. Marie was pulling Dilandau. "Move it, kid."

Dilandau pushed back his blankets and crawled out of bed to Marie, still in a daze. "Tell me again what's going on."

Marie laughed again and Folken came to meet them, hugging Dilandau briefly. "We've found a match and in the next 48 hours, you're going to receive treatment. If this works, you'll be ok, Dilandau."

"I've got another chance?" Had he heard them correctly?

"You've got another chance."

"Oh gods..." Dilandau felt his knees go weak with relief as Hope, who had been knocking impatiently at the doors of consciousness, was invited back in. Folken supported him, guiding him to the door.

They passed Allen– Allen who was his perfect match Marie had said. A perfect match that both scientist had been sure would only come from his sister, a sibling. The charcoal sketch came to mind again... the one of the boy with his back turned– Big Brother.

What does it mean? He asked himself. What are you trying to tell me?

No voice answered him, but a strong hand did ruffle his hair. Dilandau's eyes met Allen's; the man had fallen into step beside he and Folken. That was the hand that had rubbed his back and made him feel whole.

"Thank you," Dilandau told him softly and blinked at Allen's smile. It was a nice smile, like Van's, but not. It was something else. Someone else smiled like that, smiled to where the corners of their eyes crinkled when they were happy.

"You don't need to thank me," Allen said, his voice equally soft. "Lets just hope this works."

Dilandau nodded, too grateful at getting a second shot at remaining in the land of the living to question Allen's motives. Hope was good. Hope was back. Hope was...

"Wait a minute? Take my personal things to my Slayers so they won't get thrown away? What the hell?"

* * *

Author's Note: And that concludes the "Longest Day" we finally move on to tomorrow, lol. So, what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Either way, let me know. Please review :)

* * *

Review Responses:

koneri: Lol, hey girl. Sorry for taking so long. Here is your update. Thank you for the review!

DillyLover: Thank you! I'm glad you like the story so much and sorry I took so long. Blame my Logic Professor... (grumbles) Take care!

Kontradiction: Hello! I'm happy you're enjoying the story. I hated that all of the Dragonslayers died in the series too. I think most of my fan fictions are responses to things I didn't like in a series. Protective slayers are fun and yes, I think the Dragonslayers are winning too. But deep down, Dilandau likes the attention ;). Van trying to be a stud, hehehe. Yes, they are young and Van is awkward, but he might have some hope. Will Allen turn into the vicious overprotective older brother... muhahaha.. You'll see, but I do believe you've touched upon one of the reasons why I started this story ;). Thank you for your thoughtful review and I hope to hear from you again. Recommendations for Escaflowne shounen-ai? Rainjewel's Behind Enemy Lines and MorganSteelgrave... I forget the name of the story, but all of her Escaflowne works are good, so you'll have fun finding it. Take care!

Jhaylin: Will Dilly get better? Maybe after this chapter with Allen's help...that is..if the war doesn't get in the way ;). Thanks for the review. Take care!

Katsu: Yay! Glad you didn't forget about me! Lol! Actually, I like to forget about stories and then come back and find that there are LOTS of new chapters out for me to read. Glad you liked the last chapter and thank you for reviewing! Take care!

Pocketfirefairy: Hehehe... I don't know how much Dilandau will like being called sweet even if I explain the situation ;) Yes, Allen's being good, and I'm still shaping him... but into something dear Van might not like, muhahaha! Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Gadget 151: Ooh Maine, I applied for graduate school there: The University of South Maine :). I have been having the hardest time concentrating on anything lately too. It's why this chapter took forever to come out, but hopefully I'm back on track and you are too :). Not good to start school with temporary ADD. Sorry about the chapter drag...but... the Longest Day involves no action... more war will appear next chapter ;). Take care and thanks for reviewing!

Macky: Thanks! Take care!

Glass Angel1: Remodeling and school... gah! School and anything...gah! Lol! Yeah, I'm lazy...sue me :P. Heheh well, Allen's got a clue and Marie's got a needle...and a bone drill, so I really hoped you liked that chapter. After ALL of this is over... two more chapters :)... I promise to send the Slayers on vacation lol. Sorry about the lack of Folken in the last chapter, but I hope his appearance in this one made up for it. Take care and thanks for the review!

Nikku: Hentai... having dirty thoughts about Allen and Gaddes. Shakes finger at you... Get your mind out of the gutter. Guimel losing it was fun. He was the only person that really hadn't had a spotlight where a little of what he felt was put out there. Hehehe, you spit tea on your computer and yourself...heheehe... more hentai visions? Glad you liked the Allen/Dilandau scene. It was one of the handful of scenes that inspired this story. I've got a few more of those to go ;). I've got about 2 more real chapter and an epilogue planned. Almost done :). Thanks for the review girl and I'll talk to you soon!

Strangedream:) Hey! Glad you liked the chapter. Van may be in luck when it comes to getting Dilandau to notice him... but now he has another problem, muhahaha! Dilandau's reaction to everything will be soon to come ;). Thanks for reviewing girl. Take care!

Renluva: Hey! I'm glad you still like the story and that you have favorite chapters. That makes me smile and has me thinking I must be doing something right lol. Dilandau's had it rough, but things may be looking for him :). Don't worry about keeping me for any period of time; I love reading reviews. Take care and thanks!

KentouKurige: Hello! Thank you :). Erm..I'm kinda dragging this out aren't I? Dilandau's fate may not become clear for a little while longer. I've got 2 more chapters and a follow up to go :). The story won't really end with Severed though. I plan on doing a few one-shots that follow the characters and show what they've bee doing since the War. Thank you for reviewing and take care!

Higashikaze: Aww... Allen's getting some love. Yes, Allen is out of his denial stage and has moved into the acceptance stage. Yes, it was a long day, but now it's over! The next chapter will start the following morning. Guimel did need that boxing match and he's lucky it was Dallet. Someone else might not have understood and gotten really angry with him ;). Wow, has it really been that long since I updated? The end of summer...geez... Now, it's the end of winter break...which STILL wasn't long enough. Sorry for not updating sooner, but my semester was AWFUL. I have never had so many classes that I have disliked in one term. Gah. But anyways, take care and thank you for reviewing!


	33. Chapter 29

Author's Note: All right, so this update wasn't quite within the month lol, but it wasn't as late as last time's. Sigh, I know, I know... I will do better. Ok, so you probably knew I was going to say this, but I'm not sure if the chapter to come will be last chapter. I didn't quite get to the scenes I wanted to in this one, due to excessive chapter length. I think this might be second to the second to the last chapter lol. I promise not to drag it out for much longer! Thank you for keeping up with me!

Oh and good news! I got into graduate school. Come this summer I will be an MFA candidate at the University of South Maine :).

Sorry just had to share that. I've shared it with everyone else ;)

Big thanks to Cat and Katy who read over this for me before I put it up for you guys to slaughter. Enjoy... I hope :).

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Chapter 29

The sun was rising when Dallet pulled Guimel away from the bar. His soft brown boots crunched over discarded peanut shells as he waved goodbye to Milly and Dorothy, the only two people in the tavern that were awake aside from himself and now Guimel, or at least half of Guimel anyway.

Carefully stepping over the prone bodies of soldiers satiated with too much ale, toppled chairs, fallen mugs, playing cards, dice, and– what the hell was that?– Dallet dragged Guimel outside to face the morning sun.

Ai... she was bright this morning.

He shielded his eyes with the arm he wasn't using to keep Guimel upright and felt his companion stumble into his side, his curly hair tickling his neck. Guimel's arms snaked around his waist and he felt something warm and wet on his ear...

Gah!

He shoved Guimel away and watched his drunk best friend stumble backward and fall on his butt, staring up at him blankly. He rubbed his eyes, pouting and looking momentarily like a lost cherub.

Dallet snorted, _Guimel_ and _cherub_ did not belong in the same sentence together, unless the sentence said something along the lines of Guimel screwing a cherub.

But cherubs didn't have sex. At least, Dallet didn't think they did. Weren't they supposed to be...

"What the hell Dallet!"

"Not now, Guy. I'm thinking."

The market place was alive around them, people bustling about, mostly shop keepers setting up for morning customers. Robust shipping men grunted, carrying large burlap sacks and crates full of goods to stock shelves and carts. A perfect contrast to the sleepy tavern populated by soldiers and barmaids who'd been up drinking, gambling, and dancing to stomping feet and bad singing just before the sun rose.

Miss Rhonda called a greeting to Dallet and Guimel as she opened the doors to her bakery, letting the smells of freshly baked bread and pastries waft through the air to attract prospect customers.

Hell... Dallet patted his empty pockets sadly. Looked like there would be no special, raisin sweet rolls for him this morning. The guys had cleaned him out last night in that last game of poker.

Guy had won a lot... but he was saving up. Dallet couldn't take his money.

"Oh..." Guimel was moaning as he struggled to his feet, punching Dallet for making him fall weakly. "What did I drink?"

Dallet eyed his disheveled friend, noting his bleary red eyes and pale complexion in wry amusement. "Everything you could get your hands on, but... I made sure you stopped before you poisoned yourself."

Guimel sneered and ran both hands through his unruly hair, trying to give it and maybe his thoughts some order. He gazed around, looking up at the brightening sky and the hubbub of the market. "Ah shit, we spent the night in the bar?"

Dallet nodded. "You passed out a few hours ago and I wasn't carrying your drunk ass all the way back to the castle, so I waited around. Come on, lets walk."

"Need water."

"We'll get it at the castle." Dallet began to walk, slowing his usual pace so Guimel could keep up with him as he staggered and slinging an arm around Guimel's shoulders after a few missteps.

"Why'd you let me drink so much, Dally?" Guimel was moaning, his head lolling on Dallet's shoulder. "I can't even remember last night."

Dallet chuckled. He wasn't surprised. Guimel had drunk Reeden and Kio under the table in ale, buying the rounds for the men in apology for going postal on them earlier. Then, after he'd finished his ale, he'd moved on to the fruity drinks Armando concocted behind the bar that he gave his patrons on the house as experiments. Guimel had never been brave enough to try them before, and he'd downed a couple before Dallet could stop him.

"You sang a romantic duet with Reeden, gave Sam a lap dance, danced on the bar and a few tables, and went in back with Roxy. Good enough summary for you?"

Dallet watched Guimel's reaction under his lashes and laughed at his friend's mounting horror. Hmm... Guimel was never too embarrassed about giving lap dances or dancing on tables, so could it be the duet he was horrified about or...

"I went to the back with freakin' Roxy?" Guimel wailed, going limp against Dallet for a moment, and Dallet almost fell trying to keep him upright. "Oh my gods! Oh gods! She's gonna... Argh!" Guimel steadied himself and pulled at his hair.

Both Dallet's brows raised. "What?"

"She's been telling people she's having my gods-damn baby! If I did her in front... Ah shit!"

Dallet watched Guimel panic in amusement, wondering if he should share the fact that by the time Roxy had gotten to Guimel he was too drunk to get it up. Nah. Let him suffer. He should know better than to think Dallet would let him go off with crazy girls, if he actually thought something could happen.

"I'm too young for kids! I hate kids!"

"Guy."

"Ohhh… I'll never drink again…"

"Guy!"

"What?"

"Shut up. Everyone knows Roxy's pregnant by that kitchen boy, Jamie. You know, the one with the knock-out sister– what's her name– Trudy?"

"The one Pearce is screwing?"

Dallet shuddered. Pearce getting it on with something living was just plain weird, but hey, he supposed if Folken could get a hot girlfriend...

"Damn! I knew it! That no good, two timing troll…"

Dallet rolled his eyes, and grabbed Guimel by the arm again to get him to move forward. He hadn't meant for them to stay out all night. He'd just wanted to get Guimel away from the others and Lord Dilandau, for a little while. It was breaking him down in a way Dallet didn't think was… quite right. Sure, all of them were upset, scared to death, worried sick, but Guimel… It was like something inside him was slowly tearing. Guimel had– aside from their lost comrades– never lost anyone really close to him before, and while Dallet couldn't say that he had either, Guimel was taking it differently. He'd hugged Dallet so tightly the other day, Dallet started to pity Miguel as he imagined that his ribs must have felt that way. For hours afterward, he'd been like a ghost, haunting Dallet with large hollow eyes. Talk of going up to visit with the others made him cringe, talk of hunting up Lord Dilandau with more plans for their boat made him pale, so Dallet had decided to say: Get dressed; we're going out.

The castle walls were in plain view and Dallet could see the smoke rising from the kitchen chimneys, letting him know breakfast was being prepared. His stomach rumbled. He had only eaten enough the night before to balance out the amount of alcohol he planned to drink. The dark haired boy needed to be clear-headed to look out for Guimel, as was habit.

There had been a few moments when his eyes had been elsewhere though. A light grin curved his lips as he recalled his dances with Rosemary. She was nice and curvy, and smelled like blackberry pie. He chuckled quietly; she had even tasted like blackberry pie.

"… and what the hell are you laughing about? You think this is funny! I'm not wearing my own underwear! Just look at the waistband on…"

Wait… "What?" Dallet stopped walking again, staring at Guimel, who had hooked a thumb in the waistband of his black breeches and pulled it out in front of him so he could gaze at his scarlet underpants.

Dallet frowned. Guimel didn't own scarlet undergarments. Not that Dallet made a practice of searching Guimel's laundry or anything, but he'd gotten dressed in the same room with the boy for years and he figured he would have noticed something like that!

Then another thought struck him. "Guy, why the hell are you looking at your underwear anyway?"

Guimel let go of the band of his pants and squinted at Dallet cross-eyed.

Oh yeah… Dallet had momentarily forgotten that Guimel was probably still drunk.

"They're swimming around my ass cheeks and annoying the hell out of me, that's why I'm looking!"  
A few passersby gazed at them oddly, before seeming to recognize them and snicker. It was sad when strangers knew who you were, and wrote off random spurts of weirdness as your normal behavior.

There was a shout as they reached the palace walls and the gates were opened for them to reenter. Dallet frowned, wondering if someone had been waiting for their arrival. He pulled Guimel along through the courtyard, waving at greetings received but for the most part directing his attention toward getting inside the castle.

He half expected Gatty or someone to meet him at the doors, and was even more worried at not seeing anyone there.

"Why are we moving so fast, Dally? You're making me dizzy!"

"Shut up, Guimel."

Dallet scolded himself for not going ahead and carrying Guimel last night. They passed an almost empty hangar. The soldiers that weren't sleeping off hangovers after a night of getting smashed were probably down in the boiler room.

Perhaps he was being silly. So the gates had opened as if someone had been on the look out for them. Dallet and Guimel were notorious for their late nights and knew the night and early morning shift lookouts on a first name basis.

No big deal.

No big deal at…

"Shit!"

Dallet came to an abrupt stop, digging his heels into the stone of the hallway and jerking Guimel to him as they nearly crashed into Van, planted like a damn tree in the middle of the corridor.

"What's the big idea?" Dallet demanded and Guimel snickered, pointing at Van. "You look constipated."

"What the hell is going on with Dilandau? Everyone's going crazy up there and no one's talking to me about it! I'm tired of being the only one who doesn't know the deep dark secret! What are they doing to him? Folken and his woman just took him away and..."

Dallet's knees went weak. "Oh gods..."

Guimel's nails dug into the meat of his shoulder. "D...Dally, what's he saying?"

Dallet wanted to push Guimel away. He was distracting him from Van; the boy king looked distraught, meaning he'd probably been tossed out on his ass in the midst of the unfolding...

"He's not dead yet, is he?"

Had he asked that? It had sounded like his voice. How could it have been so calm?

"Dead?" Van gasped, blinking then paling. "What do you mean is he dead? Why would he... Oh..."

"I'm gonna throw up." Dallet barely acknowledged the loss of Guimel's warmth at his side.

Dallet stumbled past Van, ignoring the boy as he called after him– voice slightly hysterical– toward the stairs. He went up them slowly, hands shaking, stomach clenching, and wondering if maybe he shouldn't.

If... if Lord Dilandau was... then there was no reason to go. He didn't think he wanted to see the body. Two maids passed by him on their way down, Kanwal and Tayla, nice girls who sometimes left fruit baskets outside Lord Dilandau's door. Unrequited love could be so cute.

Poor Van.

Dallet tiptoed into the empty Slayer corridor; it was funny how easily they'd slipped into calling it that: Slayer corridor, like they lived here or something.

It was so quiet.

"Look who's back."

Dallet started at the sound of Miguel's voice behind him and whirled to face the other boy, taking him roughly by the shoulders. "Lord Dilandau... is he...?"

"Looking for you?" Miguel carefully removed Dallet's biting fingers from his shoulders. "Not really. Why? Did you have an assignment or something? Really, Dallet, being in Astoria has made you and Guimel so..."

Dallet frowned at Miguel's nonchalance, choking panic shifting to staggering confusion. Miguel could be a cold bastard, but this was too much even for him. "Miguel, Lord Dilandau's..."

Miguel raised a brow, annoyed at being interrupted. He studied Dallet for a while, when he realized he wouldn't– couldn't– finish his sentence and a light seemed to come on behind those dark blue eyes. "That's right. You wouldn't know yet, would you?"

"Know what?" Dallet reached for Miguel again and the other Slayer took a quick step back.

"Ribs, Dallet," he reminded him curtly. "Folken and Marie have found a match for Lord Dilandau, and he's getting treatment as we speak."

There was a soft thud after Dallet's legs had decided that they didn't want to hold him up anymore. He sat on the hard floor, staring up at Miguel, eyes large and disbelieving.

He was waiting for the joke that never came.

"You serious?"

Miguel scowled and tentatively folded his arms over his chest. "Would I waste my time making up stories for you? Honestly, and where's Guimel–"

"Who... who's the match?" Dallet clambered to his feet, shaking his tingling limbs to get blood flowing to them again.

Miguel smirked, running a hand through his hair and gazing around as if someone unwanted might butt into the conversation at any time. "You'd never guess."

Dallet didn't know if he should strangle Miguel for keeping him hanging, or be amused by his playfulness. The boy had been partnered with Viole for too long. "Who?"

"Allen Schezar."

Miguel was right, Dallet thought, wondering if his ass would appreciate another trip to the floor. He would have guessed until he was twenty-three before he'd even thought of the bastard knight, and even then, he'd dismiss it as desperately ludicrous.

"Yeah, that was my reaction too." Miguel's smirk widened into a smile. "But, hey, it's done, and he was a really nice guy about it. Very– compassionate– for someone who was willingly going to let the Red Witch drill into his bones and suck fluid out of them while unconscious."

Dallet cringed at the image and glared at Miguel who looked positively tickled. _Miguel_ and _tickled_, much like _Guimel_ and _cherub_, did **not** belong in the same sentence– hell, the same page– as one another!

"... answered me, where is Guimel? Did you leave him in a bar? I can't say that I'd blame you if you did–"

Dallet stared at Miguel, noting his unusually talkative manner and his brighter demeanor. Good news did that to people, he guessed. He wondered how he looked. He'd probably looked like hell before, and now– oh shit!

Miguel had asked about Guimel.

Guimel was currently downstairs freaking out because Van had...

"Just wait til I get my hands on that creep..." Dallet growled, smacking a fist in his palm, and ignoring Miguel's raised brow.

"Lover's quarrel?"

Dallet flushed, silently cursing Viole for encouraging Miguel to purchase a sense of humor. "No, it's– it's Van. He's downstairs scaring the shit out of people, made us think Lord Dilandau was...ya know! I gotta go get Guy. He's been all screwy lately and I'm sure His Hindquarters's idiocy didn't help."

Miguel blinked, his expression an odd mixture of surprise, "aww... dammit," and resignation.

"What?"

Miguel shook his head. "Nothing. Don't worry about it. Look, Lord Dilandau and Gatty are waiting for me. When you get back up here with Guimel you need to go see Folken and Marie and let them check you both over to..."

"Check us over?" Dallet interrupted. He had already been turning away from Miguel to rush back toward the stairs. Why had he let Guimel run off on his own? He knew he should have gone after him first, then come upstairs!

Ok, that was major hindsight bias on his part, but still.

"Yeah, they've got to make sure you're healthy and not carrying anything contagious. The treatment they're giving Lord Dilandau right now to get him ready is killing the stuff in his body that might reject Allen's marrow and everything else. Shesta and Viole have already been declared off-limits, and if you two come in there with the venereal diseases that you've probably contracted from..."

Oh my gods! Dallet stopped himself short of smacking Miguel. He's injured; he's injured– he had to keep reminding himself. "You can't catch a venereal..."

"I know. I'm hinting around that you need to be checked out for that anyway. Now get out of here."

Dallet gaped at Miguel's deadpan look, and stood stock still until the other boy began to move in the direction of Lord Dilandau's room.

Well, he'd never.

With a rough shake of the head, Dallet proceeded down the hallway to begin mission: Find Guimel– and in the meantime, if he happened to run into a certain Fanelian monarch– kill Van.

* * *

Dilandau scratched the skin around the central venous line Marie had inserted in his chest just above his heart when he was certain Gatty was looking elsewhere.

The blond glanced up from the cards he was studying, eyeing him suspiciously. "Stop scratching that thing, Lord Dilandau."

Dilandau scowled, placing his hands on his knees and tilting his head back to stare at the evil fluid being pumped into his system suspended above him from a long IV pole next to his chair. Folken had told him there would be side effects, and Dilandau had figured nothing could be worse than how he already felt. So all in all, he hadn't been surprised at the nausea, but the increasing weakness was irritating.

The door opened and someone slid into the room wearing soft slippers– probably Miguel. Dilandau cocked his head, trying to discern a form through the veil that hung from the ceiling to separate the core of his room from a small area just in front of the door. The dark shape behind the curtain fumbled at the small station Folken and Marie had set up to find a fresh gown to pull over his clothing, gloves, and a mask that would cover his mouth and nose.

Dilandau frowned, turning his attention to Gatty and studying the white cotton cloth that hid the bottom half of his face and fastened behind his ears. White gloves were ill-fitted over his sturdy hands, making his card handling clumsy. He dropped a few cards onto the table and Dilandau noted, before Gatty could slap his hands over the faces of the cards, that he had 2 aces and a queen.

"Oi! You saw my cards; this game's void!"

"Oh, get over it, Gatty. You were losing anyway." Miguel's even voice floated eerily from beyond the veil and Dilandau chuckled.

"Shut up! Hey, what took so long– get lost in the bathroom?" Gatty threw his cards on the round table and reached across the table to grab Dilandau's and Miguel's as well, jumbling them all in the middle of the table.

Dilandau raised an amused brow at Gatty and claimed the full deck to shuffle and deal out again.

"Ha, ha..." Miguel snorted. "I ran into Dallet."

"They just get in?" Gatty counted his cards and waved a hand for Dilandau to toss him one more.

"Yeah." Miguel parted the curtain and stepped through, pulling it back shut. "I filled Dallet in on everything and then he left to get Guimel."

"Guimel wasn't with him?" Gatty asked, scowling at his hand and looking at Dilandau distrustfully.

Dilandau's eyes widened. He didn't know whether to continue being amused or to take offense. "Hey, you watched me shuffle the deck!"

The table shook as Miguel took his seat and adjusted his legs comfortably beneath it. "Face it, Gatty. The gambling god doesn't like you, and no, Guimel wasn't with him. He left him downstairs. Said they ran into Van and he freaked them both out. Dallet ran up here like a bat out of hell."

Dilandau tossed his cards at Gatty and swiped the other boy's. "Fine, I'll play your hand!" He turned to Miguel. "Van freaked them out? Someone freaked Dallet and Guimel out?– is that possible? What did he do?"

"Ah..." Miguel scratched his head. "Dallet didn't really say..."

Dilandau stared at the slight inflection in Miguel's voice that usually indicated nervousness and tried to catch Miguel's eyes. Miguel reached for his cards, flipping them over to study the faces and avoiding Dilandau's inquiring gaze.

He lied.

"Maybe I should switch hands with you too, Gatty. Might give you a better..."

"Miguel, what did Van do to Dallet and Guimel?" Dilandau pressed, covering Miguel's cards with a hand.

Miguel took a hissing breath through his teeth and let the cards fall from his fingers. "Lord Dilandau, you haven't told Van anything at all about any of this." Miguel gestured around the sick room and Dilandau shuddered.

Of course he hadn't. What was attractive about being ill?

He frowned, brow wrinkling as he wondered why he chosen that particular line of reasoning? Who cared how Van thought he looked?

"Well– he knows now."

Dilandau felt as if he'd swallowed a stone and it sat immovable in his belly.

"They didn't," Gatty groaned. "Those imbeciles..."

"Van apparently made them think the good news was horrible, and they just..." Miguel ended in a shrug. "Anyway, I set Dallet straight; he's gonna get Guimel, but I don't know about Van. He may..."

"Shit."

Gatty and Miguel stopped conversing, glancing at him worriedly.

"Lord Dilandau, he was going to figure it out eventually. At least... at least you didn't have to tell him." Gatty's consolation was weak and it did nothing to ease Dilandau's nerves.

Now Van knew. Now he knew and he would treat Dilandau differently. Would he choose the "glass route" his Slayers had taken with him and handle him with gloves– literally now– or would he be...

"He looked at me as an equal. We sparred together, and drank together and... But being like this... I'm not... What if he thinks I'm not a worthy opponent anymore, not a worthy..." Dilandau trailed off, raising a knuckle to his lips to bite. What if I'm not a worthy companion?

Cloth covered hands saved his fingers from being savaged, holding them tightly. "If Van thinks any less of you then he's not worth your time. It's him that is struggling to be at your side, stay at your side."

Dilandau frowned at Miguel, confused at the strange passion that had overcome the other boy. "Lord Dilandau, Van has learned something about you that you weren't ready for him to know. So perhaps it is time you learned something about him that he himself hasn't found the courage to tell you."

"Miguel..." Gatty gasped. "Maybe you shouldn't..."

"Someone's got to do it for them! They're both too..."

Dilandau was about to knock Gatty and Miguel's heads together, but was distracted, like his cohorts, by the sound of his door opening. Behind the curtain, a tall shape quickly suited up for entry, too tall to be any of his Slayers... or Van... and too slender to be Folken.

"Who's there?" Dilandau asked. Could it be Pearce? Maybe he had heard they were playing poker and wanted to be dealt in. He was the only person Dilandau had played that offered any challenge.

"Allen."

The three boys gawked, then turned wide eyes to each other, mouths all hanging agape in disbelief. Just how many surprises was this man planning to deliver them? First taking care of Dilandau, then saving Dilandau, and now– visiting him when he didn't have to?

"Is it ok if I come in? I would like to talk to you."

"Um... yeah, sure," Dilandau floundered.

Gatty raised a brow and Miguel released Dilandau's hand.

The curtain parted and Allen stepped in, usual garments enveloped in a large white gown and handsome face veiled by a half mask. "You have company."

Dilandau wanted to roll his eyes. He always had company. He couldn't wipe his ass by himself, remember?

Then, glancing at his comrades guiltily, also reminded himself that they knew he didn't like being alone.

"Yeah."

"Uh... I'm sorry to interrupt your game, but," Allen walked further into the room looking at Gatty and Miguel pointedly, "I need to speak with Dilandau privately. It's important."

Dilandau studied the knight's solemn face, the soft light in his sky blue eyes stirring something deep within him. Nibbling his lower lip, Dilandau placed his hands on the table. "Miguel, Gatty, we'll finish the game later."

Miguel stiffened, looking as if he wanted to object to being kicked out, but sighing as he probably remembered just who they might owe Dilandau's life to. Gods...

Dilandau would owe this man his life.

"See you later, Lord Dilandau. Have someone send for us, when you need us." Gatty rose and Miguel followed him through the curtain where they disrobed and left the room, closing the door silently behind them.

"Can I sit here?" Allen motioned to the chair Miguel had vacated and Dilandau nodded numbly, watching the elegant man fold his long body into the seat. "What were you playing?"

"Poker."

"Do you want to play a game with me?"

Dilandau started to shake his head, about to demand Allen tell him what he wanted. He was tired of people skirting issues with him and acting as if– oh crap! Miguel was going to tell him something about Van!

Dammit Allen, you made me forget!

"How about we play Swordfish."

"Swordfish?" Dilandau asked, irritation momentarily forgotten.

"Mmhm... it's a game my mother made up. She taught it to me when I was little; she taught my little sister as well."

"And you want to teach me?" Had Allen lost his mind? Dilandau could be learning secrets about Van that would make his secret look like a tadpole compared to the boy king's full- grown bullfrog.

"No. I think you might know it. I'll deal."

Dilandau stared as the man gathered the scattered cards from the table and shuffled them together; he dealt them each a hand of 12 and set the remaining deck in the middle of the table.

"Just how am I supposed to know a game your mother made up, Schezar?"

Dilandau took his cards, noting as the Knight Caeli reached for his own that he was not wearing gloves. His finely shaped hands were calloused from years of swordplay and his long fingers were without rings. Dilandau looked at his own hands, flexing one and willing it not to shake when he felt Allen's eyes on him.

"I don't know," the blond said softly. "Let's just play it by ear, Dilandau. I'll go first." He laid down a face card. "Dilandau, who is Celena?"

If Dilandau had been wearing a heart monitor it would have played a long, shrill note announcing to Folken and Marie that his heart had stopped. Who had told Allen about Celena?

"How do you..."

"Who is she, Dilandau?" Allen pressed.

"My... she's my sister– my twin sister– and if you know anything about where she is...?" Dilandau rose from his chair, swaying as vertigo reminded him why he'd been sitting. Before he could fall, however, a strong body braced him, holding him steady. Allen was fast to be such a stiff, Dilandau snorted, relaxing in his embrace.

Why did it always feel so good when Allen touched him, held him?

"Dilandau. I have a sister too."

So? Dilandau wanted to retort, but couldn't. A warm hand was rubbing his back as if softening him– but for what?

"Do you know what Celena's surname is?"

Dilandau shook his head lightly. Celena had a surname? Of course, she did. Mama had to have had one too. He'd just– never thought about it. Did Allen know it? Was he going to help Dilandau find his sister?

"Celena's name is..."

"_I knew it_!"

Both Dilandau and Allen jumped at the shrill shriek of Van's voice. Dilandau nearly stumbled as he whirled to face the curtain Van had thrown open to see the red-faced boy king glaring heatedly at... at Allen?

When had he come in? Dilandau hadn't even heard the door open.

He felt Allen's arms lock around his waist and realized that he'd been wavering back and forth. "Van, you can't just come in here like that! You're letting..."

"You– you don't tell me _anything_! I can't _believe_ I _trusted_ you! You just— you just can't let me be happy! You're always— _always_– taking people away from me! What about Hitomi? Wasn't she enough? Gods, Allen— just, just..."

"Van, look. We'll talk about this in the hall. You really can't be in here! You're contaminating..."

"I don't want to talk about anything with you anymore! Just– leave me the hell alone and stay the hell away from me!"

Van stormed out of the room, leaving the curtain open and slamming the door. Any moment, Dilandau was expecting his Slayers to come barging in, swords ready. What the hell had that been? He stared in Van's wake, then tilted his head back against Allen's collarbone to question him, and found the man peering down at him, eyes strange yet warm.

Allen took a deep breath, and Dilandau tensed. "Celena's last name is Schezar, Dilandau, and she is my sister."

* * *

Van pushed through the barrage of Slayers coming at him from all sides as he barreled down the hallway and then the stairs at break neck speed. He didn't know where he was going and didn't care.

Allen– freakin'– Schezar, the biggest asshole this side of Gaea! How could Van have ever befriended that jerk? He should have listened to his initial instincts that had hated the bastard when he'd first met him!

And Dilandau...

Gods, Dilandau had just been standing there, letting Allen hold him, touch him! He was just like Hitomi, Hitomi who had let herself be wooed by the blond knight. Gods, Dilandau was supposed to be different from her. Dilandau didn't swoon and blush and skip after pretty faces like a hungry puppy following a man carrying food. He was a challenge; he was _Van'_s challenge! Not so long ago, Dilandau had laid in Van's arms, demanding that Van hold him and stroke his hair. How could he have turned to Allen so quickly?

"Van!"

Van stumbled at the sound of his name, but didn't stop. He didn't want to talk to anyone.

"Van, wait!"

He didn't realize until he was in front of his door that he'd run to his room. He threw the door open, stalking toward his closet, where he stripped off the fashionable garments he wore. To hell with silk shirts and pressed slacks, to hell with fancy boots. The boy king was pulling on a simple cotton shirt and breeches when he heard someone in his doorway.

He turned his head slightly and rolled his eyes at the sight of Hitomi, cheeks either pink from exertion or exposure. She wasn't breathing hard after the chase, so Van was willing to go for the latter.

Well, at least someone was impressed.

"Van, may I come in?"

"No." Van buttoned his pants and searched for his brown work boots. Where had he put those things?

"Why not? You aren't doing anything. You said we were going to talk, so I came back and haven't been able to find you! You're always with those Zaibach people! And Merle, Merle's been so annoying, prancing around and smirking at me like she knows something I don't! I need to talk to you, Van, now. There's something I need to tell you."

_Something I need to tell you_... _Something I needed to tell him_.

Shit.

Van found his practical brown boots behind a pair of tall black boots with buckles at the knees. Slipping his feet into them, he moved to the window, Dilandau's window.

He envisioned the silver god peering through the clear panes with his thin arms folded over his chest and winced at the intense feelings of longing tearing holes in his belly. Gods...

He couldn't have him.

Allen had him. Allen was... taking care of him. Allen had known he was sick, that he was... Van swallowed hard. The young monarch rested his body against the warm glass, shutting his eyes as he recalled what had sent him barging into Dilandau's room in the first place, once he'd gotten his head around it.

Dying. Dilandau was dying, and Van was going to tell him how he felt, just blurt it out instead of scrambling to find the right words to say, and force a reaction. He wanted to be there; he wanted... Gods.

He wanted to do so much and was afraid that he might not have the time... "Van?"

Van cringed at the girl's voice. Why was she still there?

"Are you ok?"

She was coming closer, and the thought of being near her was making him ill. She wasn't who he wanted. Van straightened up, unlatching the window quickly, pushing it open, and inhaling the warm, oil scented updrafts that came to greet him. Hitomi's footsteps were timid behind him and he quickly climbed onto the sill. "Watch out, Hitomi."

He had to get out of here. He had to get away from her, away from _him_, away from Astoria. Van ripped his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him, releasing his wings and grunting as the feathery extensions of himself burst from his arched back. It felt good, like cracking knuckles or stretching tired limbs.

Hitomi gasped, and Van imagined the awe in her green eyes as she beheld his wings as if she'd never seen them before. He wondered idly if Dilandau would be so impressed.

"Van..."

A black feather floated down to land on the toe of his boot and he gazed at it, frowning and flexing a wing to cast an analytical gaze at its new ebony tint.

"...your wings. What happened to your wings?"

Van shrugged. "Nothing."

He leapt from the window, catching an updraft that boosted him into the air. He flew over the courtyard, glancing back over his shoulder to see the rapidly diminishing image of Hitomi in his window calling him back and wishing it was Dilandau.

_What happened to your wings?_

_Nothing._

His entire life was eclipsed in shadows: his parents were dead, his brother was a traitor, his country was destroyed, his best friend had stolen his object of affection, so it was only natural for his wings to be black to match.

* * *

Allen was quick to settle Dilandau back into his chair as the boy struggled to free himself from Allen's grip. He pulled away, only stepping back after he was satisfied that Dilandau was safely seated and not about to tip over. Danger to his person from being too close to Dilandau's outburst was not as important.

The Knight Caeli waited for his paler, younger sibling– he smiled inwardly at the title he'd bestowed upon the ranting boy before him– to calm.

"No good asshole! How dare you come in here and spout that shit to me? I don't care if your freakin' marrow might help me out; you've got no right! Is this about that stupid castle of yours? Well, it was a piece of shit anyway and I did you a favor by burning it down!"

Allen raised a thin brow at that last statement and chose not to comment. Instead, he went to see if Van had closed the door after his brash exit and draw the curtains. Miguel and Gatty greeted him at the door, Viole and Shesta standing not too far behind them, outside of the room.

"What the hell is going on?" Gatty demanded and Allen wanted to roll his eyes, but did not. The last thing he needed to do was offend Dilandau's men.

"Nothing. Van just... had a misunderstanding. Dilandau and I are in the middle of discussion; I'll come and knock on one of your doors when we're through."

Gatty frowned, clearly about to object when Shesta called to him. "Leave it be, Gatty."

Gatty huffed, tossing a frustrated look over his shoulder at Shesta who smirked at him.

"He's right, Gatty. Lets go," Miguel said softly, taking Gatty's arm.

"Fine."

The Slayers retreated and Allen shut the door. The blond knight retook his seat across from the still fuming Dilandau at the card table. Why hadn't he called out to his Slayers? Allen wondered curiously.

The silver haired captain was nearing the end of his endurance, an unhealthy flush stained his cheeks pink and he panted. Groaning, he folded his arms on the table and rested his head on top of them.

"Get out," came the muffled command Allen had expected, "you lying, son of a bitch."

Son of a bitch? Anger swelled within him. "Watch your mouth. You will not disrespect my mother in that way."

Dilandau snorted, not raising his head to look at Allen. "Don't you mean _our_ mother according to you?"

"Yes, I do," Allen said, not missing a beat. "I'm ready for any questions you might want to ask me Dilandau. Prove me to be a liar."

Red eyes gleamed from the shadow of the crook of his arms. "What the hell kind of questions would I ask you?"

"Anything– about Celena, about Mother, Father, the manor, me. Can you sit up? I'd like to see your face while we talk."

Dilandau's eyes narrowed, but a moment later he sat up, albeit a bit hunched, snatching up the abandoned hand of cards he was dealt earlier. Allen met the fiery gaze of challenge with a cool look of his own.

He picked up his own cards.

"What was her name?" Dilandau asked, placing a card over the queen Allen had initially set down.

"Who's?"

"My... your mother's."

"Encia."

Dilandau blinked, feathery lashes, Mother's feathery lashes, fluttering over porcelain cheeks before he looked up again. "Wh... what does she, _did she_, look like?"

Allen flinched at the dull pang mention of his mother's passing always brought about and frowned at Dilandau. "How did you know she was... gone?"

Dilandau swallowed, jittering knees causing the table to bounce. "I... it was..." He shook his head, glaring. "You told me to ask and you would answer, so answer!"

Allen stared at Dilandau, comparing his agitated state to that of Celena's days ago and noting the similarities of the twins in awe. "She was beautiful, tall for a woman and willowy with hair the color of mine, but with curls like Celena's. Her eyes were cornflower blue and– well, people often tell me I look like her, but not more so than you."

Allen laid down another card and watched as Dilandau planted another face card on top of the tiny pile they'd created and claimed it for his own. He watched the boy gazing at the shape of his own hands and letting his eyes roam over to find Allen's fingers.

"She... she held you and wouldn't nurse Celena until we, Father and I, pried– your body from her arms. She didn't want to let you go, and didn't stop crying until she looked at Celena and... and saw something there that I didn't."

Dilandau gently placed another card on the table and Allen put down one of his own automatically. "Mother was very spiritual. She prayed to deities and lit candles at night, and did all sorts of things I thought impractical. She never punished Celena for her horrible behavior and... I didn't know why. It always infuriated me. I used to discipline Celena when Mother wasn't around, but stopped after that time she caught me. I didn't understand, couldn't..."

"But now, maybe I have an explanation. Mother knew– she knew there were two children inside of Celena, and to punish one would be to punish both."

Dilandau claimed another small mound of cards.

There was silence.

"What happened to Celena? She left you, didn't she?"

Allen nodded, blinking as Dilandau took another pile. He didn't remember ever being so bad at this game, nor Celena ever being so good at it, but that one time... He shook his head, wishing he'd pulled his hair back like he had in his younger days.

"Celena... disappeared. One afternoon she was playing in the yard, an hour later she was gone. It was as if she'd been spirited away. I never saw her again, until..."

"Until?" Dilandau collected the last of Allen's cards, winning the game but not seeming to notice.

"Until she appeared a few days ago," Allen stated calmly, nodding to the cards Dilandau had lined neatly in front of him. "You won. Would you like to play again?"

The boy jumped slightly, letting out a startled gasp as he realized he had indeed won the unfamiliar game without instruction. "I... Holy..." He pushed away from the table, wanting to rise but lacking the equilibrium to do so at the moment. "You can't– _you can't_ be telling the truth! It's... it's absurd! It's..."

"As absurd as Zaibach's magic men experimenting on children and producing male warlords from little girls?"

Dilandau choked, a hand going over his mouth. "How... how do you know about that?"

"Celena came home a few days ago, ragged and dirty with no memory of what had happened to her in the past ten years. She spoke like the 5-year-old she was before she'd been taken. She talked about bald men making promises to separate her from the little brother she always claimed she had that I had dismissed as complete nonsense on her part. Then... then she seemed to come back to herself, seemed to realize Mother had to be dead and that her brother... you... were gone."

"She ran away from me. She went to the graveyard and found Mother's headstone. I thought she was crying... She was shuddering so violently and making noises like she was in pain. I..." Allen's voice had become a soft whisper as he was lost in reverie. "I tried to touch her shoulder and said her name, and she... she changed. She turned around and her eyes... They were violet and her voice was distorted. She looked at me as if she didn't know who I was and then she called out a strange name and a Zaibach guymelef appeared out of nowhere and took her away again."

Allen felt cold hands on his, and he opened eyes he didn't know he'd closed to see that Dilandau had scooted his chair back to the table and was leaning forward to peer at him. Allen freed a single hand to settle in Dilandau's soft hair, smiling as images of Mother laughing entered his mind, her own soft hair free of its bind, waving in the breeze as she worked in her garden. Dilandau didn't move, didn't pull away from Allen's touch.

"Celena _was_ here."

"Yes."

"I felt her."

Allen paused. "You did?"

"Only briefly and then she was gone. It was... it was after that last fight with Valeska, when I... got sick. I sensed her presence close by. Folken sent my Slayers out to look for her... Folken..."

"He knows," Allen said, not wincing as Dilandau's fingers bit into his flesh. "He... knew before I did. He told me about the sorcerers and what they did to Celena, to you. I didn't believe him. My reaction was worse than yours. The whole story was so insane, but then..."

Dilandau was trembling and Allen thought it best he sit back down properly. He brushed the boy's fingers away and gave him a gentle push back into his chair. "...then a good friend suggested that I watch you, because he had noticed it too– that we... look alike, even... even act alike sometimes. He told me to find out all I could about you, and after yesterday, when I held you and saw your artwork, I knew."

"You knew," Dilandau breathed. "And Folken knew. And Marie knew." He frowned at Allen. "And... I'm last to know. Why am I last? Why didn't Folken say something when he first figured it out. He probably knew weeks ago. He..."

"Was protecting you. I... Dilandau, I'm an asshole, and I would have hurt you. Folken didn't want you hurt."

"I could have died though. I still could. He was going to just wait until you..."

"No," Allen shook his head, running a hand through his own hair and massaging his temples. "He wasn't just waiting, Dilandau. Folken was thinking of you and your friends. If he'd... done something to me to get what you needed, Astoria would have turned you all out. He needed facilities to treat you, and..."

"My friends need a home, security."

Allen nodded, moistening his lips and looking ashamed. "I'm not proud of my reaction, and I hate myself for... for letting you become this ill when I could have done something to prevent it."

Dilandau was staring, face contorting in confusion. "You're... blaming yourself– for me?"

"I blame myself for a lot of things Dilandau– for Celena, for mother, why not you too?"

"Because you don't... Ok, look. I'm passed being pissed at you for... you know, because I'm starting to think you honestly believe it but..."

Allen placed a hand under his chin as he observed the boy's already tentative composure snap in two.

"Gods..." He covered his face.

"Would you like for me to leave, so you can collect your thoughts? You can send for me at any time, and I'll gladly..."

"Stay."

All right. Allen sat back eyeing the IV attached to a port somewhere under Dilandau's blue, silk shirt.

"So..." Dilandau started, then stopped, slowly pulling his hands away from his face., his expression weary and subdued. "So, you want to believe this and think of me as... as a..."

"... younger brother I thought I had lost 15 years ago."

"And I'm just supposed to..."

"You aren't supposed to do anything," Allen said with a sigh, wanting to reach out to him again. "I just...felt you should know why I... had such a drastic change of heart about you. I know you wondered about it."

Dilandau nodded, nibbling on a pale bottom lip.

"So, now you do, and... as I said before, with everything that's happened in your past, is being related to me really so hard to believe? I mean, Celena had to have a family somewhere and if you came from her..."

"I didn't come from her."

Allen blinked at the interruption. Dilandau was carefully getting to his feet, using the arm of his chair as leverage and a balancing post for a second before pushing off to go to his bed. He grabbed the IV pole and tugged it after him as he ventured to his nightstand. Another sketch book with a tan cover set upon it and Dilandau took it in both hands. "I was born, like you said, from Mama and got... displaced. She thinks it's because she loved me so much and willed it to happen, but I didn't go to where I should have."

Allen rose from the chair, coming around the bed to stand next to Dilandau, turning the boy to face him. He didn't ask. He didn't have to. Dilandau knew to explain himself.

"I had a dream about her, Mama, Mother..." he chuckled lightly. "Encia Schezar, maybe. I thought it was a dream, but it wasn't. Said she'd been somewhere inside me and Celena, waiting for us to look for her. She told me about it, how I was born dead, but instead of going to heaven I went inside Celena. She...held me... like you do. It's... it's why I like it so much, I guess, when you hold me."

Allen shut his eyes, wishing he could have seen what Dilandau said he did. He didn't for one moment doubt the boy's words, whether he confessed he thought his vision was fantasy or postcognition. Allen was ready to believe anything at this point. Draconians were real and still in existence, Escaflowne was a real dragon, he'd dated a girl from the Mystic Moon, his baby sister was an evil warlord on the enemy's side, and he had a little brother, so why couldn't Mother communicate beyond the grave?

Allen laughed suddenly, startling Dilandau who gazed up at him with wide eyes. "Don't mind me. I'm just slowly going completely insane."

Then, much to Allen's surprise and delight, Dilandau cracked a small smile, laughing weakly with him. "Care for company?"

They sat on the bed together, Allen reaching for the art book. "May I?"

"It's why I came to get it." Dilandau shrugged and played with his IV cord while Allen flipped open the sketch book, thumbing through many blank pages until coming across a sketch in the middle of a young woman sitting in a large bed with a teenage boy crushed against her chest.

Allen gasped lightly, tracing a long finger over the contour of the picture as he recognized the room, the bed, the woman and the boy. It was Mother's bedroom, and that was the large feather bed Allen had spent so many nights sleeping in beside her, chasing away nightmares. The boy in her arms, though Allen couldn't see his face, had to be Dilandau. He could tell from the way he sat in Mother's embrace. "This is..."

"That's when I saw her. Is it...?"

Allen nodded. "That's her, Dilandau."

"And so, we're...?"

"Yes."

"Ok."

Allen blinked. "Ok?"

"Ok."

Allen was still as Dilandau shifted on his bed, fumbling with his IV until he was successfully immersed in the wealth of pillows at the head of his bed. "So, what now?"

"Hm?" Allen was careful when he turned to face the boy, his younger brother, to not hit the IV pole or drop the sketch book. He really hadn't thought about what would come next after he told Dilandau who he was, but he supposed their next big step would be to, "Find Celena."

Dilandau nodded. "Any clues. I mean, where was she coming from when she appeared at... at..."

"Home?" Allen finished. "Um..." Dear gods, how had he forgotten this detail? Dilandau had no idea about Celena and Valeska. How was he going to take to knowing he'd almost fought his twin to the death more than once, judging from their banter?

"What is it now?" Dilandau sounded annoyed.

"She... was coming from the battlefield we just left."

"What?" Dilandau sat up and hissed. "Freakin' IV! She came from that last battle? Really? Where was she? I knew I felt her there. Did she try to find me?"

"Oh, she found you," Allen said, rubbing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"She did? Why didn't she get my attention?"

"Oh, she had it."

Dilandau was glaring at him; Allen could feel it, but he refused to look. "The only people that had my attention on the field was Zaibach and my Slayers... oh and you when that bitch Valeska tried to..."

Allen looked at him then, almost chuckling at his awestruck expression.

"Oh my gods! Don't tell me– no, please don't tell me– Is she... was that..."

"She's Valeska," Allen said smoothly, reaching out to rest a hand on one of Dilandau's thin legs and rubbing the silk fabric of his pajama pants. "And before you go on a guilt trip, you didn't know it was Celena, and she certainly doesn't recognize you as being her brother. Zaibach has brainwashed her or something and she doesn't remember us. So..."

He stopped as Dilandau's incredulous features soured into something akin to disappointment and his brows furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"Valeska is Celena."

"Yes..." Allen frowned, becoming concerned, "but don't worry. We'll find a way to..."

"Valeska is Celena and that was the best she could do against me!"

Allen stared.

"We had the same freakin' training and _that _was the _best_ she could possibly do? She never stood a chance. I beat her while handicapped, twice! Twice! How embarrassing is that?"

Allen sat back, massaging the bridge of his nose again, feeling a migraine coming on. There was no doubt about it.

Dilandau was Celena's twin through and true.

"What's the matter with you, Allen?"

"Nothing."

Just wishing Mother and Father had stopped after they realized they'd gotten it right the first time. Younger siblings. Ai.

* * *

Author's Note: So what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Either way, let me know. Please review!

* * *

Reviewer Responses:

Nalen: Thank you:) I'm glad you enjoyed the story enough to want to buy it when you can get it free off the net ;) lol! Sorry about the wait. I have poor time management skills. I hope you're still with me for this one. Thanks for reviewing!

Black Mage Dad: Lol! Hello! Thank you for the review and I will try to make next month's deadline :).Take care!

Escaloony: Lol :). There will be no unnecessary deaths (evil grin). Hah! Pearce as a clown; that would be too funny. I can see his costume now, lol! The mystery of Pearce's business meetings were revealed. Nowhere near as interesting as being a clown... I probably should have written that instead but Pearce wouldn't have been pleased with me, and he's kinda scary (shudders). I hope you enjoyed the chapter and I hope to hear from you again! Take care and thank you for reviewing!

Kou-Kagerou: Lol, hey girl! Well, I hope you liked the latest chapter, more bombs are dropped and I can finally move into the last battle. I don't know if the next chapter will be the last...something tells me it'll be the chapter after it. After all, I've still gotta let Dilandau have his "sprinkler" revenge. Yeah, there will be a few post Severed shorter arcs, but nothing as extensive as this beast. Thanks for sticking with me for so long! Take care!

Katsu: I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Lots of brotherly love and ;). Yup, Dilandau likes Van; he's just starting to realize it :). Dilandau's recovery we'll have to play by ear and see how it goes. Bone marrow transplants are finicky things, sometimes they work, sometimes they don't, but it always take time to see the results ;). Thank you for reviewing and take care!

PyroNekoAssassin: Love the name hehehe! I don't think I've told you that before. Neko is cat right? So fire-cat-assassin? Should I be afraid to let my fuzzy animals go near you? Lol, ok, I'm in silly mode, sorry. The happiest dance ever, huh? How's that one go:P Thanks for keeping up with me and reviewing. Take care!

Glass Angel1: Lol, ok well maybe two more chapters after this one. Eh, Eboni-mistress-of–long windedness, couldn't cut this chapter off and get in all the scenes she wanted. I promise not to drag it out for much longer though. The truth about Dilandau and Allen is out lol, well to Dilandau, soon it will be out to everyone...but Van cause he left lol! Yah, Marie had fun drilling holes into his pelvis. Lets see him womanize now ;). Yeah, Celena will cause a mess. Yes, get back to writing your story and when I'm through with this beast, I will be allowed to read Esca fics again, and I will have something good to read :). Thanks for reviewing girl and take care!

S.P. Vinter: Allen says: the past is behind us now. He has no hard feelings against anything you've said about him, though the Slayers still snicker about your comments. I'm glad you enjoyed the previous chapter, the conclusion of the longest day in the world. Take care and thank you for reviewing!

Jhaylin: Lol, hey that's fiction for ya. The goods never come to the end of the book, but if we got them at the beginning, why keep reading lol. Yes, the fic is almost over. Not quite as over as I thought, but almost. Two more chapters... and some one-shots and mini-multi-chapter stories. Thank you for sticking with me and take care! Thanks for reviewing!

Koneri: Lol, thank you so much. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Take care!

AmePiper: Ok, sorry. You reviewed my Gundam Wing story and I forgot to include the answer to your question in last month's response. I ended up purchasing Gundam Wing from a local store in a complete box set. Ebay has great offers for the series if you want to buy it in its entirety. Ok, on the Esca review: Lol, yeah the second chance means he's getting another shot at sticking around for a few more years. Without the transplant he had no hope of survival, with the transplant his chances of survival increase radically. Lol, yes the story's ending soon, but there will be follow up short stories. I hope you'll follow those too :). Thanks for reviewing and take care!

Arkarian: Lol thank you! Take care!

Macky: Lol, I will...almost through. Thanks for reviewing!

Aurebec: Yeah, that last update took longer than I'd wanted it too and so did this one. But I wasn't as bad this time. The Slayers opening scene was written three different ways and that was the one I stuck with; I'm glad you liked it :). Lol, Van finally has a clue now, though it's semi-wrong– all my fault of course;). It's just so fun to keep him misinformed. I'm just so glad you buy the Folken/Marie thing. No one likes original female characters, especially ones that end being love interests, so I'm always overjoyed at Folken/Marie comments. Pearce is so growing on me. He's one of my favorite people to randomly toss into the mix now. Allen's nightmares were fun. He's such a baby lol. More smiles about Folken's and Marie's characters. I felt like I've been short-changing them as of late, so I'm glad you still like em' and think Folken's not too ooc. Hehehe, that Van and Dilandau scene was hard. I have different versions of that one too. I think Van is doomed to forever be interrupted before he can make a point. He will learn to talk faster lol! Why thank you. I appreciate being called evil (big grin). They had to move Dilandau's stuff so that the room could be properly sterilized. Then they moved things back in as they were cleaned (sheets, clothes...stuff that can be washed) or replaced (the neater art stuff, no coals or paints, just plain paper and firm pencils that don't leave so many shavings behind). Lol, thanks for the review! Take care!

Nikku: Lol, now you know I would never give up on this story, especially when it's so close to having a fork stuck in it (done). Wow, has it been two years? Time flies. I think I started this story the summer before my senior year of college. Lol, a reminder of my old age. I remember writing scenes between Grammar and Shakespeare classes. Dilandau and Van would not appreciate being called adorable, but I have noted that you said they are :). Lol, Allen is gaining a nicer sibling to balance out the hell-brat that is Celena– not that Dilandau's an angel either ;). Allen was a little bit more eager to give the marrow when he found out he would be unconscious for the procedure, but the sample taking...gah! I wouldn't want to do that either. Gah! I'm shuddering just thinking about it lol. Hah! You thought Allen was going to make a move on Van? Really? Why? Oh wait, you said you didn't know. Hmph! Well... I tried to do better with the updating process, but I'm still a bit late. I am trying to do better :). I'm glad you're still enjoying the story! Take care girl! Thanks for reviewing... Oh and the last Battle Royale come out the day after my birthday. Guess what I'm getting? Lol!


	34. Chapter 30

Author's Note: Sorry for taking so long to do this. I've been hard at work on my novel and doing graduate work. I am really pushing to have this story done before the new year, and things are looking very optimistic. I've already started the last chapter. That's right the last. This is the REAL second to last chapter. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed up until this point, and I hope you all enjoy the new chapter.

* * *

Chapter 30

The water wasn't cold enough to wake her up. Valeska stared at her reflection in a basin of water. Ever since that day– that day she'd found herself in the company of Allen Schezar, she felt like she was walking through a dream. Nothing felt real anymore. Valeska growled and batted the bowl away, not flinching as the heavy dish clattered to the floor and icy water splashed onto her bare feet. She rubbed her eyes, then ran hands through tangled hair, getting it off her face. Where was her hair-band? Her hair had been in her face since– since Schezar. Did that bastard have it?

Gods.

Was she nuts? What would a man want with a woman's hair piece? Though Allen's hair was much longer than hers and he could probably put it to better use. How could someone fight with such a burden sprouting from his head?

Maybe he'd grown used to it. Allen always did have long hair. She liked to pull it when he—.

Shit.

Valeska jumped up from the small fold-out table she sat in front of, knocking her chair down. She kicked the table and watched it strike the tent wall. The cloth flapped open and the cheap, make-shift piece of furniture fell to the ground. If she had kicked it a little harder, it could have gone outside and hit someone.

Damn.

What the hell was wrong with her? She couldn't remember how she'd come to be with Schezar or what they'd been doing. When she'd come to, she was sitting at a grave with Schezar practically breathing down her neck, calling her by that bitch's name. Schezar seemed confused and scared, but not for himself. He'd reached for her like he knew her, looking like he wanted to–to save her or something. Save her from what–who?

And why the hell would he want to save her? Last time she checked, she'd almost killed the bastard twice. Each time, someone got in her way. The first time it was Fanel; the second time it was him.

Dilandau.

She and Dilandau had fought; Dilandau was going to kill her. She'd lost to him twice. Twice. Valeska howled and looked for something else to kick or throw. She ran to her bedding, kicking over the cot then knocking over the tiny table and lantern next to it. Oil spilled onto the dirt and she smirked. Valeska picked up the lantern and walked around her tent, leaving a trail of oil. When the lantern was empty she threw it back to the ground and went to get dressed. She strapped on her armor and slid her sword into its sheath.

"Lord Valeska, we've just gotten the order to move out." Jajuka slipped into the tent. He sniffed the air like a disdainful cat as Valeska chuckled at him.

"Announce yourself before entering my tent, Jajuka." She pushed past the beastman, stepping outside for the first time in two days. The sun was just above the trees and the air was cool. It was a good day for war.

"Lord Valeska, what happened in there?" Jajuka followed her out and stood at her side, blue eyes appraising her.

Valeska quirked a brow at him; she was tired of the beastman staring at her. He tiptoed around her and waited on her hand and foot, all the while looking at her like he was looking for someone else–looking at her like he was worried. But what could he possibly be worried about? She laughed when the thought of Jajuka being worried about her crossed her mind.

"Lord Valeska?"

"I didn't like the furniture. Tell me about our orders."

"We're joining the team invading to the east. Astoria's allies are within the Astorian Borders now and General Adelphos wants us to clear the way to the castle. Lord Valeska, it smells like oil in–"

While Jajuka talked, Valeska found a match in one of her pockets under her overcoat. She struck it on the leather holding the plates of her armor together and tossed it over her shoulder. The match fell against the bottom of the tent and Valeska grinned as it caught fire.

She felt a bit better now. Starting fires was so therapeutic.

"Lord Valeska! The other tents..."

Soldiers burst from their tents, staring at the blaze jumping from Valeska's tent to theirs. They cursed and shouted for water. We're under attack, seemed to be the general consensus. Valeska laughed at them trying to save the camp. They were about to start the war. This place would be desecrated in a matter of hours. Half–hell most– of these people would be dead in a matter of hours. What did this hell-hole matter?

"She did it, the bitch!"

Valeska could feel the eyes on her back and the finger pointing as if they were poking her. She hoped they would charge. Hand-to-hand combat, gods, she hadn't done that in a while. Not since she was training the Dragonslayers. Gatty was her favorite...

Great good gods. It was happening again. She pulled at her hair, not caring that she was getting oil in it. It was dirty anyway. She was dirty. She couldn't recall the last time she'd bathed, like she couldn't recall what had happened after that fight with Dilandau. She was down, he was going to run her through and then there a light– blue light. Blue like Schezar's eyes, blue like Celena's eyes.

Celena. She was tired of thinking about that bitch. Valeska whirled to glare at snarling soldiers. The fire was doused, the smell of smoke and melef oil heavy in the air. Four tents lay in charred, soggy ruins on the ground and men smudged with soot and ash stood panting over them, holding basins and buckets.

Valeska saw a flash of steel. A man pulled his sword on her. He was tall, his dirty blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail. She would take his hair-band after she killed him. The man smiled at her with even white teeth, but when she narrowed her eyes she saw that two of those teeth were false.

"I see you've taken quite a few fists in the mouth. Are you really hungry enough to want to taste mine too?" Valeska drew her sword and licked the clean blade. Jajuka must have polished it for her. He was such a good man servant–beast servant– whatever.

The man sneered. "I'm sick of all the science projects Adelphos keeps handing us. But I must admit, I preferred that demon Albatou over this one. At least he played with a full deck most of the time."

Valeska roared and charged. The man grunted and stood poised to catch her blade. He would die, the fool. She saw an opening immediately. Something caught her from behind. A furry hand chopped at her wrist, disarming her quickly.

Jajuka threw Valeska behind him and faced down the blond man and the group of scowling men behind him."Our orders are to move out, now!"

Valeska heard someone spit. "We don't take orders from beastmen! Move aside and let us get that bitch. My little brother was on that team she got massacred. How is it that she's the only one to come back from that without a scratch?"

Valeska growled, trying to get around Jajuka but the lion-headed creature possessed a strength she couldn't fathom. This man took orders from her, when he could crush her? Ridiculous. "Let me go. They want to fight me, and I feel generous."

"Lord Valeska, our team is to move out within the hour. If you want to be in front, we need to–"

"Let the bitch fight! It's not like we need her on the field. She gets her ass kicked by Albatou every time!"

Valeska tried to push past Jajuka. She wanted her sword. "Jajuka!"

A horn bellowed from above, deep and loud. Valeska looked up to see the floating fortress of a general, not Adelphos's though. It was a sound of warning. The soldiers began to disperse, grumbling and moving to melefs and weapons stations on the outskirts of the camp. The entire ground was fenced in by a ring of Alseides, rolling guns, and explosives. The grass had been torn away by all the equipment dragged over the area, leaving nothing but loose, brown dirt.

Jajuka moved aside and the blond man was still standing there, but his sword was put away. He stared hard at Valeska and Valeska wished Jajuka would remove his paw from her shoulder. "You kinda look like that shit Dilandau, you know? Only he was a hell of a lot prettier than you. Are you related?"

Valeska spat in the man's direction and he laughed.

"You're his jealous sister?"

Valeska's vision was fuzzy. She saw a shape behind the blond man, two shapes. One was pale with silvery hair; the other was taller and blond. They stood on either side of the man, peering at her expectantly.

"Celena," they said. The silver one rolled his eyes and looked impatient, the blond one frowned.

Valeska fought the urge to look over her shoulder for Celena. She felt the girl nearby, but she knew she wasn't behind her, she was... Valeska pulled her hair. "Stop calling me by that bitch's name! I'm Valeska!"

She dove for her sword, grabbing it up and rising to point it at the man. She could run him through right now. He had put his sword away and no one was watching overhead anymore.

The man snorted. "Please. I've got better things to do than bother with you. I'm going to go out on the field to fight a real opponent. Maybe I'll run into your brother. If you're around, I'll show you how real soldiers fight."

Valeska surged forward and the man's eyes grew large as he jumped out of the path of her sword. Blond hair fell loose about his shoulders as a sliced hair tie fell onto his boots. "That could have been your head, dear. If you want to fight a real opponent run into me on the field. We'll forget we're on the same side, Captain– I don't believe I know your name."

"Isaac, Martin Isaac. We'll finish this on the field, Lord Valeska."

"I'll be the one in purple," Valeska called after the retreating Isaac. Hm. She picked the remains of his hair band up and tied her curls back. Well, the man was good for something. "We should leave now if we want to be in front, right, Jajuka?"

"Yes." The beastman looked worried. About what? About who? "Are you sure you're up to this, Lord Valeska. We don't have to fight. We can leave now."

Valeska narrowed her eyes. Jajuka's eyes shone bright as he looked into her eyes. A name was on his lips and if he voiced it, Valeska would kill him. She waited to hear it, but no further sound came from the man. "I want to be in front, Jajuka. That way I'll be able to slaughter as many enemies as I can, and Dilandau and Schezar will be sure to see me. I'll kill them, and then I'll kill Isaac."

Lets see them call me Celena then.

Though, Isaac never called her Celena. Poor man was guilty by association. The figures that had stood by Isaac were gone, but Valeska could still see their transparent faces.

"'You're his jealous sister?"'

She couldn't be. Valeska had no family or past. She was the perfect soldier for those reasons or rather she would be once certain people were dead. "Move out, Jajuka."

"Y–yes sir."

* * *

"I think I need to school you boys on the meaning of quarantine."

Folken looked away from the throat culture he'd taken from Gatty and pulled off the face mask he wore. "They're both clean."

Gatty and Miguel sat on a metal table with Marie glaring at them. The redhead tossed him a look over her shoulder, then removed her face mask. "You hear that? You're clean. Lucky shits. Now, when I tell you Shesta and Viole are under quarantine, I mean you are to have no contact with them and if you have to, you are to wear protection. It does not mean walking up and down the halls with them and carrying on conversations in close quarters."

"Dr. Marie, there was yelling coming from Lord Dilandau's room; we all ran to see what it was. It's not like we went to them or anything," Gatty protested.

"And they are the ones under quarantine, meaning they really shouldn't leave their rooms. Shouldn't you be yelling at them?"

Marie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Yeah, yeah, I'm gonna yell at them too. I just got to you idiots first."

Folken chuckled and got up to stand beside Marie, letting her lean on him. "Dilandau really cannot afford to get sick right now, so we cannot stress the importance of how clean it needs to stay in that room. If you think it's going to be a problem, we could keep all of you out, but– "

"But?" Miguel asked.

"Dilandau would probably break out to come see you if he thought his only company would be us." Marie rolled her eyes.

"You and Allen Schezar," Miguel snorted. "He threw Van out in favor of Schezar's company."

Folken felt something twist in his stomach and he pretended to cough, so he could cover his mouth and hide his expression. Allen had already gone in to see Dilandau? Had he told him yet and if he did, what had Dilandau said? Maybe Folken should go...

He felt Marie's slender fingers caressing his hand. He gazed down to find her smiling up at him lightly. Leave them alone, her eyes said.

But what if he's taking it badly?

Leave them alone.

Folken sighed, squeezing her fingers.

"Hey, stop it, you two. You're grossing us out," Gatty groaned, sliding down off the table. "If you two being together means goo-goo eyes and hand-holding all the time, then we need a new hallway."

"Would you rather goo-goo eyes and hand-holding or headboards banging against walls?"

Folken choked. "Marie!"

Gatty's eyes grew large before he laughed loudly and Miguel flushed. Marie grinned at them all and shrugged off her lab coat. "What? Do you mean to tell me you haven't thought about sex with me, Folken? I'm a bit insulted, unless you're the traditional type that likes to wait for rings and ceremonies. Personally, I–"

"Miguel, what did you mean about Dilandau dismissing Van in favor of Allen? Van has been to see Dilandau? I didn't know that he knew about Dilandau's illness." Folken almost grabbed Miguel's arm to stop the boy from leaving the room. It was time to change the subject. Marie's grin turned into a smirk. She boosted herself onto the table Miguel and Gatty had vacated.

Gatty and Miguel inched closer to the door.

"He wasn't supposed to know. Lord Dilandau didn't want anybody to tell him, but he figured it out," Miguel said.

Folken blinked. "Why wouldn't Dilandau want Van to know?" Dilandau and Van had grown quite close as of late. Van had even been more tolerant of Folken, which probably had nothing to do with Van forgiving Folken and everything to do with Van pleasing Dilandau.

Miguel sighed and Gatty looked at his watch as if to say to explain would take all day.

"What's with the body language? What don't we know?"

Gatty and Miguel glanced at each other then back at Folken and Marie.

"Van likes Lord Dilandau and he was finally going to tell him today," Gatty said.

Folken blinked. What was so amazing about that? "Yes, Van and Dilandau are friends."

Marie crowed, nearly falling off the table. "Great good gods! And Dilandau's clueless or does he know what Van's gonna tell him?"

"Clueless," Miguel and Gatty said at the same time.

"Both of them are so utterly clueless. It was all we could do not to do it for them," Miguel said.

Folken frowned. He still didn't get it. Van was going to tell Dilandau that they were friends and Dilandau was clueless? Dilandau was a very intelligent person; there was no way something like that would escape his notice.

"According to Viole, Shesta and Miguel practically told Van to plant one on Lord Dilandau and see what he does."

Marie hooted, slapping her knees and tossing her head back. "Gods, and you guys were gonna keep this from me? Tell me when he gets ready. I'll retract the mask rule for a few minutes. I want to see the outcome"

Van was going to plant one on Dilandau and Marie was going to retract the face mask rule for it? What in Gaea were they all talking about–oh. Folken's eyes widened. Ah.

Marie chuckled. "And Folken gets it."

Folken scowled at the woman. "I'll have you to know that I suspected Van of being attracted to Dilandau from the moment Dilandau arrived here, but Dilandau himself threw me off. He told me Van liked Miguel."

Miguel growled. "Van's liked Lord Dilandau ever since the day he escaped from the Vione. He practically told me so himself during the Freid incident."

"When we rescued you?" Gatty asked, poking Miguel. "So you've known for all that time? That's why you were such an ass about Van teaching those classes when we first got here. You thought he was chasing after Lord Dilandau–and he was. Hah! Wait til I tell Shes– through his door with my mask and gloves on."

Marie raised a brow at Gatty. "And just how do you think Dilandau's going to take all this, since you all seem to be pretty supportive of it. Has Dilandau ever done anything that made you think he might be homosexual, heterosexual; anything-sexual? I don't think I've ever seen that kid look aroused by anything other than his sword and Oreades."

Miguel shrugged. "I didn't think so at first, but after watching those two together –well, there's a light that comes on in his eyes when Van's around. Try as we might, that light won't come on for the rest of us."

"He didn't want Van to know he was sick because he thought Van would treat him different. He was really upset when he found out Van knew. I've never seen him quite like that over someone else before."

"And then there's the castle gossip." Miguel rolled his eyes. "That outing Lord Dilandau and Van went on is now considered a date. Rumor has it Van paid for everything and bought Lord Dilandau a lot of expensive gifts that we've yet to see. A maid took them all to Van's room, after she and her friend went through them of course. There are a lot of clothes in the bags that aren't Van's size."

Marie wiped tears from her eyes and snorted in the most unfeminine of manners. "Oh gods, when—when did they go out? I don't remember Dilandau ever telling us he was going out–oh. It was that night before the 'Celena' incident wasn't it?"

Gatty nodded. "Yeah, a lot happened that night– all of it crazy, but none of it crazier than Allen Schezar being Lord Dilandau's perfect donor and him all of sudden wanting alone time with Lord Dilandau. He really looked serious, when he asked us to leave. He said he would come and get us when they were through talking like they would be a while. Any idea what they're talking about Lord Folken? You looked kind of upset when I mentioned it earlier."

Folken blinked. He remembered when people used to go out of their way to comment on how unexpressive his face was. "Ah, that's something for Dilandau to discuss with you, when he's ready."

Miguel looked ready to argue, but Gatty took his arm. "Lord Dilandau's already had something else he would have rather kept to himself get out. Lets leave this one alone. If he wants to tell us, he'll tell us."

Miguel made a face. "Or we'll figure it out ourselves. I'd like to think that we're not as dense as our dear King Van, when it comes to finding answers."

Gatty continued to hold Miguel's arm until the brown haired boy sighed. "Fine." Miguel frowned, rubbing the arm Gatty had held absently. "Dr. Marie, before Gatty and I came in, Viole said he was going downstairs to see what he could do to help out the soldiers. I told him not to go, but he wouldn't listen to me. Is it ok for him to be wandering around right now, if he's sick, or going to get sick, rather?"

Gatty made a soft clucking noise at Miguel and barely dodged the brown-haired boy's elbow.

Marie looked heavenward, tossing her hands up in the air. "Why do we bother? Set a quarantine, tell the boys to stay in their rooms and keep away from each other, and they do what they want. I told you we should have put them all on lock down to keep them in one place, Folken. The dungeons here are really nice, but no, you voted we should let them run wild. That boy." Marie blew wispy bangs out of her eyes. "Well, I suppose he'll come back upstairs, if he starts feeling ill."

"Should I go get him? I bet he went to the training room to rally whatever cadets he could find there. Our little soldiers have been training themselves in our hiatus. They want to fight." Miguel rubbed his chin and peered back at Gatty.

Marie shook her head. "So long as you don't think Viole will jump in an Alseid and join the war effort, he's fine. Stay clear of him. I'm more concerned about Dallet and Guimel. Didn't you say Dallet went to find Guimel over an hour ago?"

Miguel's eyes widened and Gatty looked guilty.

"Shit, forgot about those knuckleheads." Gatty shook his head. "Come on, Miguel, maybe Dallet needs our help or something. Guimel's been–weird lately."

Miguel snorted. "Only lately?"

The boys headed for the door.

"Oi Miguel, don't forget about your ribs. Please be careful," Marie said.

Miguel waved and the door opened and closed.

"Damn kids. I'm having my uterus removed, Folken, so don't look to me for more," Marie muttered. Folken hardly heard her and ignored her disappointment at his lack of reaction. He stared at the closed door, wanting to follow Gatty and Miguel, but he knew he would make a detour to Dilandau's room to listen outside the door. He wanted to know how Allen was telling him and what Dilandau was doing about it. There wasn't any screaming and Dilandau hadn't run in to kill Folken for knowing who Allen was and not telling him right away.

"Stop thinking so hard, you'll wrinkle."

Marie was watching him from her perch on the table. "Dilandau's probably taking it just fine. Sir Allen's a nice guy once you get past the holier than thou attitude, and Dilandau's– well, he didn't seem too bothered by Sir Allen's presence earlier when were all together. They made a connection, Folken. They'll be fine."

Folken sat back on his stool. "Maybe so."

Folken heard Marie sliding off the table and walking toward him. She sat on the stool next to his, facing him and staring at his neck. Folken turned to meet her eyes. "He's not going to forget about you Folken. Allen Schezar will not replace what you are to Dilandau. People have been known to have more than one male sibling. I have four of them."

Folken blinked. Four brothers? Marie never talked about her family or her past, but then again, Folken never asked. He never spoke of his past, not really, many people with Zaibach didn't speak of their pasts. "Marie, you never..."

"Oh please, Folken. When have we had time to talk about ourselves or go on a date like your brother did with– ai. I just had a disturbing thought." Marie blinked and smacked her lips like she'd tasted something terrible. "Let's go back to what you think about Dilandau and Allen forging a relationship. Do you really think he'd throw you aside for tall, blond and handsome?"

Folken stared at Marie, amazed at how she could bounce from subject to subject and somehow manage to keep track of them all. "Well–no, maybe. Allen Schezar has more to offer him than I do. When this is all over, Allen will probably want to take Dilandau away, maybe back to their family home to live, and Dilandau will go with him. It's where he belongs, with his family."

"When the war is over Marie, will we continue to live in Astoria or will we travel to other lands? The Slayers may stay to finish their schooling, but sooner or later they'll leave. Maybe I should return to Fanelia with Van to help him rebuild–to help us rebuild, if he'll have me. I don't know where we'll be–any of us– and I'm afraid of losing what I have, I guess. I'm–I'm comfortable."

Marie chuckled. "You too? I like living in a palace with the heir apparent eating out of my hand. And no matter how much I complain, I love being around the kids, but kids grow up. You're right that none of them are gonna stick around here for long. Dilandau going off with Sir Allen will only show that he's ready to take the next step in his life, and you've raised him well up until that point."

Folken sighed. "Yes, but it's–"

"It's hard," Marie said, "but, it's not like he'll disappear. It's not like any of them will disappear. You said Dilandau belongs with his family. Well, most people are known to have more than one side of a family. He belongs with us too, and even if he goes to live with Allen or Celena, he'll be with us. He'll write, he'll drop in wherever we are at the most inopportune times– he and those Slayers of his. You know those boys would never separate for long. We'll have our hands full and you'll laugh that we ever had this conversation."

"Be happy, Folken. Happy that we can talk about later and make plans. Because of what you've done and what they've done for this war cause, we're free. The people here don't think of us as 'those Zaibach people' anymore. We can do whatever we want and whomever we want."

Folken gasped as Marie's hand fell into his lap. "Marie!"

"What? The kids are gone now."

Folken rolled his eyes. "Two more will burst in, in a minute."

"Probably." Marie sighed, removing her hand. "Feeling better?"

Folken frowned. He thought about Dilandau letting Allen take care of him, trusting Allen, living with Allen. Folken had known Dilandau for three almost four years, and Allen had known him for a matter of months, but time didn't matter when blood came into play. Folken thought about Van who he hadn't known for years. It was time for their blood to come into play. It was time to talk. All of them could talk together maybe. Van liked Allen and Van liked Dilandau so much that he was civil in Folken's presence.

Gods, Van liked Dilandau. Was that cute or disturbing?

"Marie, what was your disturbing thought?"

"Hm?" Her hand was in his lap again and Folken squirmed. "Oh, that your little brothers have the hots for each other."

Folken swallowed. Well, that image definitely wasn't cute. "Marie!"

"You asked."

* * *

Viole sat on a rough wooden table watching twenty-five cadets in decrepit melefs bumbling about the minor courtyard. Splinters bit into his ass when he shifted and the legs of the table wobbled. He would have sat in the grass if it weren't for all the screws, nails and spare melef parts littering the ground. He'd rather have a splinter up his butt crack than a nail.

"These suits are pretty bad. You really think General Keller was serious about using them?"

Viole frowned and glanced over at the cadet beside him, Roland, a tall, gangly boy with red hair and freckles. Roland was 2 years older than Viole and raised as a farmer. He was a runaway like Viole, who wanted his chance to fight. Viole had ventured to the training hall after leaving Shesta, Miguel and Gatty to see who he could find, and had been surprised to see Roland there with so many others. He'd thought they would have all run down to the hangar and courtyard to try to get places on the battlefield by then.

"I think General Keller wanted us out of his face," Viole grumbled. It was no secret the generals and some of the other soldiers were nursing some hard feelings about the Dragonslayers sitting this one out. They understood Lord Dilandau was down, but they could not understand why the Slayers wouldn't fight. Staying by their leader's side while he recovered was unreasonable.

Viole's lips twitched. He couldn't be by his leader's side.

Quarantined. Viole couldn't go near Lord Dilandau, because he was carrying some virus Shesta had given him. Damn that Shesta. Miguel and Gatty had spent more time with the blond, but had Shesta shared his germs with them? No. Viole was the lucky one. Dr. Marie said it probably happened on 'Celena' night when Viole had taken a nap in Shesta's lap. Shesta had been the most contagious then. Viole was confined to his room, but he was too antsy to stay there. He used Van's running out of Lord Dilandau's room like a bat out of hell as an excuse to escape his own. The boy king had looked like someone had eaten all the good candy and left him with butterscotch, then told him he fought like a girl. Destroyed, devastated, and betrayed.

Allen Schezar told them all to go away and they had, but Viole didn't go back to his room. He was up, he was dressed, he felt fine–all except for a small tickle in his throat– he had to do something. So, there he was next to the main hangar, sifting through rusty, antiquated melefs with his men to find serviceable units. General Keller said they wanted every melef on castle grounds prepared for battle and had told Viole where the scrap heaps– er storage facilities– were to scrounge for useful machines. The gray haired man had smirked and patted him on the back. "And when you get tired of that, maybe you can grab some of your friends and join the real effort."

"That guy's an asshole, Captain." Roland said.

"He is," Viole said amiably, "but he has some reason to be. He thinks every able man and boy should be fighting, and here we are almost 30 strong playing in the yard." Viole rested his chin in his hands and watched Roland. "Why didn't you join the others going out on the field, Roland?"

Roland's brown eyes were thoughtful as he studied the mid-morning sky. "I wanted to. I really did. This is Gaea's first great war, and all the men who are going to fight in it will have their pages in history, but I think the men who fought under Lord Dilandau will have their own books in history. He's brilliant, and he's leveled the playing field for Astoria to win. After this, he's going to go on and do bigger and better things, and I want to go on with him. If that means I stay out of the Great War and 'play in the yard' because he says so, then so be it, Captain."

Viole chuckled at the glow of adoration on Roland's face. Viole wondered if he used to look like that when Lord Dilandau passed by. Probably, all the other Slayers had.

"Well said," Viole said. "So, you've figured out why he hasn't mobilized the class?"

Roland chewed the left side of his bottom lip, and Viole raised a brow. Viole himself had wondered about Lord Dilandau's motives for training soldiers for Astoria and then not allowing them to be dispatched. True, they were not up to the level of even the Third Stringer Slayers, but it seemed that there was no point in even accepting the task if the products of it weren't to be used. Then, Viole really thought about it.

Lord Dilandau was asked to train soldiers for Astoria, not the Great War. These would be the men that would protect Astoria while it healed. Wars left huge gaping wounds in countries. Cities would have to be rebuilt, lives salvaged, alliances reformed, boundaries redrawn. The military might be in shambles by the end of it all, but it wouldn't fall apart, not with their cadets at the heart of it, young and fresh and trained by the best.

"Our training's not complete," Roland finally said after a long pause. "There's still so much for us to learn from him, from you. We're not the best we can be, not for this War, but maybe for the next. I want a good book to be written about me with over 100 pages. Can't write 100 pages about a guy who can't pilot a melef at full-speed and parries like a girl."

Viole laughed, then covered his mouth as he coughed. Damn that Shesta. "You don't parry like a girl– you shuffle your feet like one. It's like the opening steps of a summer waltz every time you take a step back."

Roland snorted, glancing at Viole with a smirk. "Summer waltz, huh? I knew you were a noble."

Viole pouted. "Aw, is it really obvious? I mean, Guimel and Dallet say it is, but they're not reliable sources."

"Only when you stand, walk, hold utensils, carry clean handkerchiefs–"

Viole was about to cut the other boy off, he'd heard enough, he was a frilly fruitcake, when there was a crash. Viole's attention darted back to his cadets maiming each other in large killing devices– or rather used-to-be killing devices. But then again– Viole stared at panicked Raul and Joss as their melefs lay on top of each other, both struggling to pull the hunks of junk back to their feet– the machines could kill if they fell on someone.

"Oh shit."

Viole stood up on the table, ignoring how it wobbled. "Everybody stop what you're doing!"

The melefs on the little field froze in place. Raul and Joss called to him.

"Captain, what do I do?"

"The joints are locked!"

"Stay calm." Viole cracked his knuckles, studying the positions of the melefs. Joss's melef was on its back with Raul's lying face down over its chest. Both escape hatches were blocked. They needed a forklift, but Viole was sure General Keller would say all the equipment was being used for the war effort and couldn't be spared.

"Ok, who has the locked joints?" Viole asked.

"I do." Raul.

It would be the melef pinning the other down that couldn't move. All right, Vi, use your brain. There was no real forklift available, but Viole knew of something he could use that was better than a forklift. "I'll be right back. You're in charge, Roland. Clear the others off the field and tell those two not to move."

"General Keller's not going to give us a forklift," Roland said with a frown.

"I'm not getting a forklift," Viole grinned. He clapped Roland on the shoulder and jumped down from the table. I'm getting my Alseid. Viole marched across the courtyard in the direction of the main hangar, wishing someone would say something rude to him or glare at him as he approached. So, these guys wanted to treat them like shit for not wanting their leader to feel like shit if they went out there and something happened to them. Well, they were free to kiss his ass.

Gods, Viole prayed nothing happened to those boneheaded cadets that had sneaked into the military lines, but the soldier in him knew that he wouldn't see most of those boys again. Astoria would win, no doubt in his mind or Roland's for that matter, about that. Lord Dilandau had seen to it, Lord Folken had seen to it; Schezar and company and King Van would follow through on it. But it would be a messy win.

"Yo Viole!"

Viole smiled and waved at the soldiers still talking to him as he entered the hangar. Machines rolled past him and heat struck him at the entrance. Leviships were being fueled and melefs were firing up. Smoke from one side of the hangar was a bit on the thick side, and Viole steered clear of it, not wanting to know what happened. It smelled like burnt rubber. Dumbasses probably forgot to move those old boots away from the furnace before they gassed it up.

Viole frowned as he reached the corner the Silvers and Blues were kept in. He was no genius, but there were supposed to be 12 Alseides here. He whirled around to find Gaddes watching him. "What happened to the Silvers?"

"Alloju and Keller each took one and gave the remaining guymelefs to other officials. I think Keller has..."

"Lord Dilandau's. Oh man, he's gonna be so pissed if something happens to those," Viole grumbled, the fire in his gut letting him know that he was pissed as well. Someone else was piloting his Alseid without his permission. "That's theft!"

Gaddes jumped and Viole scowled up at him. "They don't even know how to work them. Only a fool would go into battle using a weapon he hadn't tested yet. They're gonna break our stuff and get blood all over it!"

"I'm loving the concern you're expressing there, Vi. Just so you know, we, me and Reeden and Kio and everybody, told them to leave your melefs alone, but our word over some hot-shot generals' don't mean much and Dryden– he's a mess. There's no talking to him right now. He won't admit it, but he's missing Boss."

Viole put his hands on his hips. "Your Boss is with Lord Dilandau, and there are clueless generals in our Alseides! Do you know what we've been through in those things? They're like family! Oh, just wait until I get back upstairs!"

Viole didn't know what he wanted to do first. Well, he knew he had to go help Joss and Raul first. He'd use his old Blue instead of his kick-ass Silver. Then, he'd run upstairs and– oh wait, quarantine. He wasn't supposed to go near the others–but this was an emergency... and a war.

Viole sighed inwardly. The Silvers were some of the best weapons Astoria had and they weren't being used. Now they were going to be used, albeit badly, but alas, they were machines for war. So long as Keller and Alloju and the other cronies slaughtered at least one or two of Zaibach's people before they got themselves killed, it was ok. But please, please, let them bring his Silver back in large, fixable pieces. Dallet and Lord Folken were great mechanics, not miracle-workers.

"– ok?"

Viole blinked. Gaddes was talking to him. "Huh?"

Gaddes chuckled. "I asked if Boss and Silver Kid were doing all right. They had some things to talk about last time I saw Boss, and he was in a lot of pain from that procedure Lord Folken and Dr. Red did."

Viole flinched just thinking about what Dr. Marie said she'd done to Sir Allen. She'd seemed amused by Viole's white-knuckled reaction. Red Witch indeed.

"Yeah, yeah they're fine, from what I could tell through the door. Sir Allen was telling Lord Dilandau something important and sent Gatty and Miguel out."

Gaddes frowned. "About how long ago was that?"

Viole shrugged. "About an hour, I guess. I came down here right after it. Sir Allen hasn't been down or sent word at all?"

Gaddes shook his head, looking a bit worried. "No one's seen Lord Van either."

Viole snorted. "I saw him right before I came down here too, and I'll let you know he wasn't in a good mood. I figured he'd be down here though."

Gaddes shook his head. "No Van. No Boss."

"No wonder Dryden's a mess." Viole said. "Any Zaibach noise?"

"Nope, but we see their forces, and they have a lot of equipment, but not more than Lord Folken prepared us for. I think Astoria is gonna take this one."

Viole smiled. "Yeah."

"And it'll be thanks to you kids, you know?" Gaddes said, resting a hand on Viole's shoulder. "So don't let those jerks out there give you a hard time and make you feel bad for not being out there. You done enough."

"Thanks." Viole turned away from Gaddes to cough. It was really starting to hurt. Maybe Dr. Marie wasn't being unreasonable when she told him to stay in his room.

"You don't sound good. You all right, kid?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I've got cadets to save. Thanks, Gaddes, for what you said. I really needed to hear that." Viole trotted up to his Blue and climbed the leg, ignoring the slight head-spin as he caught his balance and unlocked the hatch. As the Alseid powered up, Viole relaxed in the piloting chair, shutting his eyes for a moment. After this, he would go back to his room or Shesta's. He sat up and directed the Alseid to walk. Men jumped out of his way and he thought he saw a bushy mop of blond hair being half-dragged, half-carried by a mop of dark hair. Guimel and Dallet?

He walked his Blue out of the hangar and across the courtyard, gazing up at the sky. It was a pretty day, too pretty for fighting, but he doubted anyone could convince Zaibach of that. The day the others had died had been pretty too; the sky had been the same shade of light blue.

This is it guys, the end of Zaibach as a major power on Gaea. It'll be a while before anyone is threatened by them again. It's not enough. Nothing will ever be enough to pay them back for what you lost, but it's what we can do.

The sun seemed to rise higher in the sky, as if to acknowledge Viole and to cast a golden glow on a large bird corkscrewing through the sky. Viole squinted, the closer the bird came, the more it was starting to look like a man with wings.

Geez. Viole pressed the back of his hand against his forehead. Fever. Great.

If he hadn't already said it, he'd say it now. Damn that Shesta.

* * *

Van didn't think it was safe to fly back in through his window, so he landed behind a building in the market place about a mile from the castle wall. The usually lively streets of Palas were somber as citizens boarded up store windows and pushed emptied vendor carts into allies. The smells of bread and seafood cooking for early lunches were muted by the smell of war. This place, Van looked around, was lucky. It hadn't been touched by fighting yet, but in a little while, it would be. The tavern Dilandau had dragged Van to caught his eye and he smiled. That night, Dilandau had taught Van how to gamble. He told Van that to play, he had to put something he couldn't part with on the table, because it would make winning more worthwhile.

Van didn't feel he could part with Dilandau.

Van frowned, walking with his hands to his sides. Black and white feathers fluttered from his hair. It was the funniest thing. When he'd been flying, looking down at all the war machines of their allies and of Zaibach, he thought about the war and Dilandau. His wings were black as he envisioned bloodshed and destruction and Dilandau being gravely ill, maybe dying, and Dilandau choosing Allen over him. But, when he turned to head back to Astoria and saw the smoke rising from the castle and a window Dilandau could be looking out of, they'd turned white again. There would be blood and chaos, but there would also be strong men and women ready to clean and rebuild, and Dilandau– Dilandau was too tough to die from a stupid illness, too stubborn. He'd tell Death he was busy and he'd call Her when he was free. And–and why should Dilandau choose Allen over Van? Van spent more time with him; Van made him laugh. Miguel, Shesta and Viole thought Van had a chance.

The more he thought, the faster he flew and the whiter his wings became. It was almost like his wings reflected his mood. Would they turn blue if he was sad? He hoped not. Blue wings wouldn't flatter his complexion. He should ask Folken about it– he would ask him. Dilandau would like for him to ask, and so would Folken, probably. His brother really wanted to make things right, and maybe Van did owe him another chance.

The castle gates were open, guards standing sentry nodding to him as he entered. He saw people doing double-takes at him, and Van glanced down at his bare chest. Well, he supposed he was rather undressed for a stroll.

"Lord Van, General Keller would like a word."

"Lord Van, you're back!"

Van ignored the voices calling him. He walked past some of his students sharpening weapons and strapping on armor, glancing at them sharply. Dilandau wouldn't have given them orders to be out there. The more Van trained with those boys, the more he suspected that Dilandau was prepping them for something else. He would start to have Van or someone else move them into higher training, like melef piloting, and then he would stop, saying there was no time for it now. It was almost like he was saving things for later, after the war.

"Van."

Van jumped as Hitomi planted herself in his path. He had just passed out of the hangar. Where are you going? He heard people calling after him. They needed Escaflowne.

Van needed something else. Van needed to tell Dilandau how he felt, no more waiting. He'd lay it out on the line, put all his cards on the table with his heart as the wager. And after he won, or lost, he'd come back down and join the troops. It sounded crazy, he felt crazy, but he knew he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else, if he didn't do this now. He'd be damned if Allen Schezar took another person from him, because he didn't speak up in time.

"Van, where–?"

"Can't talk now, Hitomi. Later. After–after everything." Van pushed by the girl, not missing the teary-eyed look she shot him and jogged toward the stairs. He took them by two's, his heart skipping a beat every time a foot came down on a step. Please don't pass out. Please don't pass out.

The Slayer hallway was empty as Van walked to Dilandau's room. His steps were slow and measured. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. He entered the doorway, gazing at the curtain separating him from the room. There was a small table loaded with folded white garments, gloves and small white cloths with thick string attached. Allen had been wearing one of the white garments and had a white cloth over his mouth. Was Van supposed to wear this stuff too? He touched a cotton smock.

"If you're coming in, come in."

Dilandau. Van jumped at the sound of his voice. He sounded impatient, but Van couldn't gauge Dilandau's mood on just that. He always sounded impatient. Van glanced at the white garments one last time. Wish me luck, he thought to them and parted the curtain.

"I told you, you didn't have to come back to tell me goodbye. Dryden's probably having– Van."

Dilandau was standing at the window. The sun streamed in, off-setting the silver of his hair and encasing him in a god-like glow that made Van backtrack through the curtain. The drapes swished back in place, shielding Van from Dilandau. Oh shit. Oh gods.

"Van?"

Oh hell.

Van came through the curtain again. He gulped and walked right to Dilandau who stood staring at him oddly. Van stopped inches from the other boy, eyes taking him in. Dilandau didn't seem as tall as he usually did, probably because he wasn't wearing his boots and Van was. He wore thin blue slippers, blue silk pajamas and a matching robe. Dilandau even slept in style.

"Dallet bought it for me," Dilandau said softly, following Van's eyes to his garments.

Van nodded, licking his lips nervously and finally looking up to meet Dilandau's eyes. Dilandau's lids were down and sooty lashes hovered over his cheeks. "Dilandau, I–"

"I didn't want you to find out about this like you did, Van."

Van blinked. Dilandau's eyes opened, the red orbs serious. Find out about what? Van's eyes went to the slim pole balancing atop a flat, four-wheeled cart, a bag of fluid dangling from a hook on top of it. A thin tube ran from the bag to Dilandau, disappearing under his shirt. Van swallowed hard. What if Dilandau told Van he was going to die? Van wouldn't believe it unless Dilandau said so.

"I didn't want to tell you, because I liked what we had. You didn't treat me like the others do. I was probably wrong not to tell you, but I don't care. If I could keep you from finding out, I would, because I never wanted you to look at me–like that."

Van found his voice. "Like what?"

"Like you are now. Like–like you–" Dilandau stopped, eyes narrowing in confusion. "Van?"

"I want to say something to you."

Dilandau frowned. "I'm not dying anymore. If you want to give me a pity speech, save it. I'm going to be fine."

"I don't want to give you a pity speech." Van almost laughed in relief. Dilandau wasn't dying–anymore.

Dilandau's frown deepened. "Then what do you want? Why are you looking at me like–?"

No words! Van had no words! Shit. Damn. Dilandau leaned closer to him, trying to get a closer look at his eyes. Maybe he thought Van was drunk. Say something, say something– Van moved forward, not thinking, shutting his eyes. His lips met something soft and warm. His nose brushed Dilandau's as he moved his tongue over Dilandau's closed lips. They were smooth and salty. Van's hand came up to rest on Dilandau's cheek as he pulled back, studying Dilandau's expression. Dilandau's eyes were closed, but they opened as Van moved away.

They stared at one another. Van trembled, not knowing what to do next, but encouraged by the fact that Dilandau hadn't hit him. The taller boy blinked a few times, his eyes wide and curious, not disgusted or angry. Van licked his own lips and moved without thinking again, pressing his mouth against the thin scar he'd made on Dilandau's cheek. His hand still rested on the other side of Dilandau's face, holding it in place.

He pulled back, watching, waiting. Dilandau's lips parted, but he didn't speak. The confusion in his eyes was slowly fading and a pale hand came up to touch the hand Van had on his face. "Van, why–?"

"Because I'm crazy about you, Dilandau. I think I'm in love with you and everything about you. I wanted to tell you this for a long time, but– but just in case you didn't– I didn't want you to treat me different. But I can't be around you anymore without you knowing."

Van didn't think it was possible for Dilandau's eyes to get any larger, but they did. White fingers tightened over his, the grip painful. "You're what, Van? What did you say?"

Van's stomach flipped. "I'm crazy about you, and I want you to be more than just a friend. Could you–can you see yourself maybe wanting the same from me one day?"

"I– "

Dilandau was stuttering. Van had made him stutter. Van wanted to giggle. Dilandau wasn't pushing him away, wasn't calling for his Slayers, wasn't laughing at him, wasn't looking violated. He just looked– thoughtful, perhaps a bit dazed, and overall, very surprised.

Van wondered if he should kiss him again. That had been nice. Dilandau smelled wonderful up-close and he liked the tickle of Dilandau's hair ghosting his forehead.

"There's no rush, Dilandau. I just– I had to let you know."

Dilandau blinked again and took a breath. "Van..."

"All right, this time I'm really leaving. Your friends are with Folken. They've found your missing Slayers, and one or a group of them will be coming in later, after Dr. Marie tests them. Really, that woman. She says the most vile things."

Van tensed and Allen stepped into the room decked out in the white garments at the door. "She– Van! What are you doing? Get away from him!"

Dilandau started, grabbing onto his pole to catch his balance. He took his hand from Van's, eyes going from Van to Allen. Van whipped around to face Allen. The blond man's face was flushed as he stalked toward Van. He grabbed Van by the arm with a grip strong enough to bend steel and yanked him forward into his chest.

"Dilandau, go wash your hands and face, please."

With that, Allen proceeded to manhandle Van out of the room. Van struggled, but was surprised to find he was no match for Allen in a rage. Dear gods, he used to think he could take this man in hand-to-hand combat with a bit more practice–hell, he'd need more than practice. Pushing Allen was like pushing a mountain– he didn't budge. Van was locked in his grip, but he was able to turn his head to look over Allen's shoulder. Dilandau stood in the same place, not watching them. He ran a hand through his hair and touched his fingers to his lips, still seemingly thoughtful.

Van grinned. Eat that Allen.

They were outside the room, Allen throwing Van out in front of him and closing the door behind them. "Van, you cannot enter that room without putting on the proper gear. Dilandau could get very sick from whatever germs you're carrying on your body right now."

Van frowned. "He said he was fine."

"Dilandau would say he was fine if his head was falling off, you idiot. If he gets sick, because of your carelessness..." Allen trailed off, blue eyes aflame. "What were you doing? You were touching him."

Van's grin grew wider. His cheeks were starting to ache. "I kissed him, and then I told him how I felt."

Allen paled and he ran his hands though his hair before ripping the white cloth from his face. "You–you– oh you idiot. You put your mouth on him? You–!" Allen pulled off the gloves, tucking them in the pockets of the smock and took a menacing step toward Van. "You are not allowed in that room alone ever again. Do you understand me?"

Van snorted. "I understand that you've gone mad. You can't tell me where I can and can't go. Only Dilandau can tell me not to come in his room, and you didn't hear him telling me to leave, now did you?"

"He probably didn't know how to react to you, you clueless fool. I can't believe you– "

"You can't believe I what– made a move on a person I'm attracted to before you could? Was that your plan all along? You wait until I seem to like someone and right when I get close to saying something, you snatch them up?"

Allen choked. "Snatch them up? Van, what are you–?"

"First it was Hitomi. You knew I liked her, but that didn't stop you from taking her from me. And now that I've got Dilandau, here you are again!"

Allen stared for a moment, eye twitching. He covered his eyes with a large hand and massaged his temples slowly. He gave a deep sigh and removed his hand. Blue eyes solemnly regarded Van and Allen's back straightened. "If this is about Hitomi, fine. She– I'll give her to you. You are right. You were interested in her first, and I was wrong for taking her from you. Winning her heart should be easy enough; you won't even need my help. Take her and leave him alone."

Van huffed. "Take her and leave him alone? You'll _give_ her to me? Who the hell do you think you are, Schezar? Who died and made you think you have any right to–?"

"My mother!" Allen shouted. "Gods! Van, Dilandau's my brother!"

Van gaped. "Allen, have you gone crazy?"

"Yes!" Allen looked at wits' end. He ripped off the smock and threw it to the floor. Van would have said something, but the brightness of Allen's eyes threw him off. Dear gods, was the man about to cry?

"What's going on out here?" Miguel and Gatty stepped into the hall. They came from Folken's lab. Both boys watched Van and Allen warily.

Allen cleared his throat. "Can–can one of you check on Dilandau and make sure he's washing his face?"

Gatty nodded.

"Van?" Miguel asked.

Van sighed. His moment with Dilandau was over. He knew he'd never get Dilandau alone again today, but Van had made his point and from Dilandau's reaction, maybe he had his answer.

"I'm going downstairs to get Escaflowne ready. Tell Dilandau I meant what I said, and that there's no rush."

Miguel and Gatty stared at him for a moment before little smirks appeared on their faces. "Marie's gonna be disappointed."

Van frowned in confusion.

"She wanted to watch."

Van heard the sound of a palm slapping a forehead and looked to see Allen storming toward the stairs.

"What's wrong with him?" Gatty asked.

Van shrugged. "He's crazy."

* * *

If he hadn't walked away right then, Allen would have committed high treason. People were put to death for throttling monarchs. Even if they were ungrateful little brats that–ai. Allen caught himself. Van was not a little brat. Up until that morning, he was a good boy. Now he was the pervert seducing Allen's 15-year-old brother. Dilandau wasn't ready for that yet, wasn't up to it, and he didn't even know if he liked boys. He could like girls. Allen liked plenty of girls. Van himself said Dilandau had never thought about relationships with any gender, so why let Van decide who Dilandau liked? Miguel was the most intelligent friend Dilandau had– or rather he used to be. The way he was smiling at Van led Allen to believe he'd encouraged Van's detestable behavior earlier.

He'd kissed him. Van had put his mouth on his little brother. Gods, where? Allen pulled at his hair, thinking about Van's lips roaming Dilandau's skin with Dilandau too stunned to pull away. Dammit, Allen shouldn't have left the room. Folken hadn't been able to tell him anything helpful about how to get Celena to come to her senses. If he hadn't been wasting his time with in that godsforsken lab...

"Allen!"

Allen's shoulders tensed and he quickened his pace at the sound of Dryden's voice.

"I've been here, looking out for you all morning, and now that you've finally come you're running from me! Why?"

Allen stopped, not turning, but listening to Dryden's stumbling footsteps coming from behind him. Great good gods, was the man drunk? Hands fell over his shoulders, slipping down to be around his waist and Allen flinched, feeling the ghosts of bone drills and needles over his flesh. Though he'd been unconscious for the procedure, his body was not, and it wanted revenge for his getting to take a nap through it.

"I'm a failure Allen. Not fit to be king. Not fit to be a husband. Not fit to be a man!"

Allen looked heavenward as the back of his shirt was soaked through with Dryden's drunken tears. He supposed he should be enjoying this. Allen could hold this display over Dryden's head for a very long time, but he found himself wishing he still wore the gown he'd ripped off. Allen clamped down on Dryden's hands and wrenched them from around his waist, then turned to face the heir apparent.

Dryden's ridiculous ponytail was gone, as were his stupid glasses. Dryden's brown eyes were blurry and shadowed, his face haggard. He looked like he'd been up all night, and probably had with the generals– alone. Allen shook his head. Dryden had never been left to swim with those pirana on his own. Dryden was all cheek and wit, but when it came to experience, he had none. Those generals pretended to listen to him out of respect for King Aston, but really what they were listening for was Folken, Dilandau, whoever Dilandau sent in his place, or even Allen to confirm their plans. Soldiers respected soldiers and military strategists, not spoiled, overgrown boys who had kingdoms handed to them by Daddy.

"Dryden, get off the floor."

"Tell me we're not gonna lose this, Allen, tell me!"

Dryden took hold of his hands, his grip cold and sweaty.

"Astoria won't lose this," Allen said calmly. He squeezed Dryden's hands. "Everything is in our favor, because of the decision you made to accept Lord Folken and the Dragonslayers into our ranks."

It was because of this man– Allen scowled at the blubbering buffoon on his knees before him– that his family was about to be reunited, that he'd found family he didn't even know he had. Allen should bow and thank him, but somehow he couldn't. Not now. "Our victory today will be your crowning achievement. You helped prepare the field."

The sobs reduced to tiny sniffles and Dryden scrubbed at his face with his sleeves. He peered up at Allen, eyes half-glazed. "You really think so?"

Allen nodded. "No one else would have had those men here. Other men, like myself, would have turned Lord Folken out and sent an army after the Dragonslayers. It took your open mind to bring them here and encourage us to forget the past–" or in my case remember it– "and look toward our future. You couldn't learn that growing up studying under a king or out on the field spilling blood. Your gift is your own."

Dryden swallowed hard and looked at his hands. "I don't know what I'm doing, Allen. I let you and Folken and a child handle things and I rode your tailcoats, and you're telling me I make a good king because I did?"

"You make a good king because you knew who to trust. You put your country in good hands. You ignored everyone who called you a fool for doing what you did and made them eat their words."

Dryden's eyes shone. He looked so very young at that moment. Too young for all of this. Too young for Allen to hate. Allen sighed and pulled Dryden to his feet slowly. "Get off the floor, Lord Dryden. It isn't very becoming of a leader to be seen kneeling to his soldier."

Dryden rose, legs trembling, face pale. He was going to pass out or be very ill soon and Allen wanted to do this before he regretted it. Allen released Dryden's hands and bowed to the man. He would have knelt, but he didn't think he'd be able to get back up. Ai, his back ached. "King Aston watches us all from his tower. You should go and watch with him from the vantage point of a king, the king."

Dryden's lips trembled and more tears threatened to spill. Allen straightened and stared at the man nervously. He looked ready to– ugh! A wet, sloppy kiss was pressed against his cheek and a heavy heir apparent fell against his chest. "Thank you, Allen. I knew–I knew I always liked you, even if your cologne smells like women's perfume and you spend longer on your hair than I do."

Allen rolled his eyes, staggering a bit under Dryden's weight. Two guards emerged from the shadows, both grinning sheepishly at Allen before saluting. "Uh–we–uh..."

"Lost him?"

"Yessir." The men were young, boys really. Allen sighed, pushing Dryden into their arms and watching the two boys wrestle him into a more dignified position.

"Take him to his chambers and sit on him."

"Sir!"

Allen shook his head, watching the three stagger away. Why did everyone seem so young today? He continued on down the hall, going down the flight of stairs that would lead him to the main hangar.

"Sir Allen!"

"Sir Allen, the generals..."

"Boss!"

Allen walked past anxious soldiers calling his name to his men, standing around the Crusade. It sat in a line of four other leviships to be launched from this site. Gaddes stepped forward, dark eyes narrowed in concern. "You all right?"

Allen nodded. "Just a bit sore, but I'm fine to fight."

"Silver Boss?"

Allen smiled. "He's going to be fine too. We're going to be fine."

Gaddes blinked, then laughed, reaching out to slap Allen on the back, but Allen stepped to the side of him. If Gaddes slapped him on the back the war might have to postponed until Allen could feel his legs again. Gaddes raised a brow and Allen shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Got any orders for us, Boss?" Kyo asked.

Allen looked to his crew, scruffy and crude, but the best he could ever ask for when he needed a hand. "Yes, and they are very basic ones. Get Zaibach."

Laughter and battle yells chorused throughout his ranks and Allen felt a light hand on is shoulder. Gaddes stood beside him. "What about orders for yourself, Boss?"

Allen glanced at the dark-haired man–his friend, his best friend. "My orders are to find a purple guymelef."

"Valeska?"

"Celena," Allen said firmly. "I'm bringing Celena home."

"You need help?" Gaddes asked. "I think these guys can more than handle Zaibach with all those allies out there."

Allen chuckled and looked to his men, watching them boarding the Crusade, crowing and tossing supplies around while enacting sword fights with empty sheaths. "I think I can handle Celena, Gaddes. You, on the other hand, have your hands full."

Gaddes followed Allen's eyes and rolled his. "Can I find Celena while you handle them?"

Allen's chuckle turned into an outright laugh and it felt good. Forget Van. Forget Dryden. Forget Zaibach. This was about family, and part of it was right here with him, a piece was upstairs, safe, and another piece he was about to retrieve.

If you really are watching us, Mother, then I know you're smiling. Your house will be full of children again soon and your garden full of laughter.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, there it is. Next chapter is the last and then an epilogue. So... what's the verdict? Like it, hate it; don't care either way? Any way, let me know. Please review :)


	35. Chapter 31

Author's Note: Sniff, sniff After 3 years, here I am at the last chapter. I never meant for this story to take so long to write, but I didn't want it to end. There will be a much shorter follow up story after this, but Severed is coming to a close. I will warn you that this chapter is extremely long, and that Cat says do not eat or drink while reading Dallet's POV near the end of this.

Ok, well... I hope you guys like this, and thanks so much for sticking with me for so long. The epilogue will be posted in a week's time at most, and I might include another quick one-shot before it.

* * *

Chapter 31

Salt and vinegar...

Dilandau had read a lot of books and he couldn't recall one that spoke of kisses tasting like salt and vinegar. Kisses were described as sweet things, like sugar and honey. Lips were usually soft and moist like recently washed, ripe berries; deepening kisses caused tart berry juice to trickle into your mouth over your tongue. The recipient let the flavor roll over his taste buds, like a wine connoisseur judging vintage wines. Book-kisses read like rich desserts after gourmet meals.

Dilandau leaned on his window sill, peering out at the smoke billowing in the blue horizon, and licked his lips. He didn't appreciate gourmet meals and always skipped dessert. He wasn't fond of sweet things or drinks where the flavor had to be contemplated. Liquor was liquor to him and sweets had no nutritional value. He preferred his wine dry and food as simple as the salt and vinegar used to preserve perishable goods for weeks.

Direct and straightforward. Salt and vinegar. Their tastes were distinct. Either you liked them or you didn't. There could be no debate. There were no unnecessary additives to mask their flavor and make them taste better to people who preferred tarts and cream puffs.

Dilandau smirked. Salt and vinegar kisses for a salt and vinegar guy. No one would be writing any romance novels about Van Slanzar de Fanel anytime soon, but that was all right. Dilandau didn't like romance novels. He liked adventure novels where sweet kisses were as common as good hygiene aboard pirate ships. He liked– he liked awkward closed-mouth kisses with lips not so soft, and dry to the point of being a bit crusty even. He–he even liked the sharp, tangy smells of smoke, oil, and tree sap on Van's skin.

It was exciting–the feeling he had when Van kissed him, twice. Dilandau felt something stir in his stomach other than nausea that made him want to laugh out loud. It felt good. It felt–right. But why was that? How could one person that was not one of his team or a member of his family make him feel so– ah, he didn't know–happy? Giddy? It was like there were bubbles in his stomach, but when he'd told Marie about it she'd laughed at him, hard, and mussed his hair.

Damn woman, and to think she and Folken were now an item. Dilandau almost felt sorry for his surrogate big brother. Almost. Sprinklers and hoses came to mind before sympathy.

"Lord Dilandau, can you sit down and daydream?"

Dilandau looked over his shoulder at Guimel coming through the curtained entrance of his room, holding a covered pitcher of ice water. The tow-headed blond quirked a brow at Dilandau and carried the water to the card table.

"I'm not daydreaming."

"Sure you're not. Let me rephrase my request. Do you think you can come do what you claim you're not doing closer to me, so I can catch you if you fall? You're seriously starting to sway over there."

Dilandau scowled and came to the table where Guimel was refilling Dilandau's water glass. The wheels of the stupid IV pole snagged in the carpet every few steps, and Dilandau had to pause and fumble with the thing. Damn nuisance. He sat down in front of his glass and took a quick sip.

"So, have you decided yet?"

"That all of you are good-for-nothing, ungrateful, annoying shits? Why yes, I have." Dilandau hid a smile behind his hand at the amusement in Guimel's eyes. It was good to see the storm clouds finally dissipating from Guimel's demeanor. He'd been a wreck when Dallet had brought him in. He'd thought–he'd thought Dilandau had died.

The thought sobered Dilandau. Contrary to popular belief, Guimel was the sensitive one of the group. He wasn't as open as Viole, or as obvious as Shesta, but Dilandau was careful around him. Guimel cared more than he shared, and Dilandau didn't want to know half of what had been going through Guimel's mind these past few weeks when everything seemed to be going to hell. He didn't want to know what had been going through anyone's mind. All that mattered was that everything was going to be all right now. Folken had seen to it. Allen had seen to it. Van had...

"How could you guys not tell me Van liked me like that? I can't believe you all knew about it!"

Guimel laughed. "Well, we didn't want to insult your intelligence by telling you something so obvious."

Dilandau blinked. "So, now I'm stupid?"

Guimel just about fell out of his chair laughing. "No." He sobered. "Just really innocent when it comes to things like recognizing when someone has feelings for you."

Dilandau felt himself flushing and was glad Marie wasn't there with a blood pressure cuff. She'd sentence him to bed rest. "I notice when people–"

Guimel cut him off. "You notice when people leer or give off creepy pervert vibes. You don't notice soft stares from girls who want you to be their hero and wish for nothing more than to be the wife that cooks your meals and bears your children. It's like you recognize potential threats and everything else is beneath your radar. Refina used to call you Captain Oblivious. She said for a guy aware of so much going on around him, you were aware of so little."

"Refina?" Dilandau felt a pang in his gut. He saw a flash of the red-haired girl smirking at him and saying, 'I'll give it my all, milord.'

"She wore perfume when she thought you'd be working close by her," Guimel said, sounding as far away as Dilandau felt. He recalled the hint of peach he'd always smelled when he neared Refina.

"She bought you baskets of fresh fruit and bread every time we had leave, when she wouldn't buy anything for anyone else."

Dilandau chewed his lip. She had. Dilandau had kept all of the baskets, lining them up in his closet after the goods were long gone. He'd used them to hold ink jars, quills, and charcoals. Refina had liked him– like that– like Van.

"She should have said something," like Van, because Dilandau was too foolish to notice on his own. "If she had said something–"

"You might have had something?" The skin around Guimel's eyes crinkled a bit; he was probably smiling behind the white mask he wore over his mouth, despite the sadness in his voice. "Maybe, but she didn't. She wasn't that kind of girl, and maybe you weren't ready for something like that then. You've changed a lot since the Vione, Lord Dilandau."

"I still didn't notice Van."

Guimel brightened. "Oh, I think you did in a way. You just didn't understand that you did. You light up when he's around, and you pay special attention to him. You didn't do that for Refi. It was only a matter of time, before one of you made a move. Van just had a little push."

"From Miguel, Shesta, and Viole. I still can't believe those bastards." Dilandau banished tears from his eyes, putting thoughts of clever Refina out of mind. Refi, the only female chosen by him, not Celena, to join their team.

Guimel shook his head. "Me either. Well, Viole maybe, but Miguel and Shes, no way. I wish I had been there to hear that conversation. Oh, and speaking of Shesta." Guimel scrounged around in the pocket of his breeches, shifting and pulling out a folded slice of paper. "Here's your note."

Dilandau looked heavenward. Did he even want to read this one? He and Shesta had been passing notes since early that morning. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Their messages to each other had started off as things like: Stop faking sick and come entertain me. I'm bored –D. Hire a jester –S. Now they were: So, how did you like that kiss? You can thank me later by the way ;) –S. Eat shit and die –D.

"We're all waiting for you response, you know."

Dilandau placed his hand over the note on the table and played with its edges. Van said he was waiting for a response too, but he'd told Dilandau to take his time and decide. Only, Dilandau licked his lips, he already knew Van left a good taste in his mouth. He thought about Van, the gangly boy-king that wasn't taller than Dilandau when Van wore boots and Dilandau did not. He thought about strong fingers massaging his scalp and firm muscles under his fingertips as he'd rubbed fine detail into the landscape he'd created on Van's chest. That night–if Dilandau hadn't known better he would have thought it was a date. He knew better now.

Dilandau saw Van sitting where Guimel sat now, describing how it felt to be attracted to someone, to Miguel, only Van had never been attracted to Miguel. Could Van have been telling Dilandau what it was like to fall for him?

Dilandau saw the warmth in Van's cinnamon eyes and his stomach fluttered. He placed a hand over it and swallowed hard.

"Lord Dilandau, are you ok?" Guimel leaned toward him.

Dilandau nodded. "I'm fine, and– " Refina hadn't said anything and if she had, who knew what could have happened, no matter what Guimel thought. Dilandau wasn't going to let something like that happen again. "–I liked it. I like him."

Guimel's eyes widened. "Come again?"

"I like Van Fanel. I don't know if it's love, like he said, but if he can give me time, maybe." Dilandau's stomach did a somersault that tickled his ribs. He laughed. "I like the way he tastes."

Dilandau wished he could see Guimel's mouth. He knew the other boy was probably mouthing all sorts of obscenities or maybe he was slack-jawed. Guimel was quiet for a long time, eyes blinking furiously, before he cleared his throat. "Well."

"Well?"

"I sure hope Lord Van survives this war, so you can tell him you appreciate his bold royal flavor. What's he taste like anyway?"

"Salt and vinegar," Dilandau said absently, ignoring Guimel's, "Yech." He wanted to look out the window again. It was a little pointless, since he could see nothing of the war from that vantage point. However, if he could see nothing, that meant the war hadn't, and with skill, would never enter the capitol city.

That was good, but still, he wanted to see. The outcome of this war would determine which route his life would take next. Van could come back and Dilandau would tell him how he felt. Allen could come back and bring Celena and Dilandau would have a family, a real blood family. Maybe all, one, or none of those things could happen, and Dilandau wouldn't know until it was all over and heads were counted.

He hated sitting out.

He opened Shesta's note.

_It sucks to be on the sidelines, doesn't it? –S._

"Guimel, can you get my pen off the night stand?"

_It seems you've developed a psychic gift. Do a trick for me. Tell my fortune. –D._

* * *

Folken cringed as Marie hummed tunelessly while she turned down the comforter on the bed. Her room was beige and white and obviously made for a female. No wonder Dryden had insisted someone show them to their rooms when they'd first come. Imagine if he or Pearce had mistakenly taken this room. The horror. The bed had a canopy, the chairs had flowery cushions, the vanity was lined with lace and the overlying scent of talc powder polluted everything. Folken had never ventured into Marie's personal territory before, and frankly, he was a little scared.

"You look scared, Folken. What's the matter, think I'm going to jump your bones just because I've lured you to my room? Sit down." Marie flopped down on the bed and crossed her ankles.

Folken cleared his throat and remained standing near the doorway. The door was partially open; he used the toe of his boot as a door jab. "Ah– well, it is improper for a gentleman to be in a bedroom alone with a lady without having both his feet on the floor."

Marie gave an indecent laugh and tucked her arms behind her head. "Listen to Mr. Courtly Manners over there. You abdicated your throne, but not your ideals. I'll let you in on a secret: most monarchs are infamous for their indiscretions, so join me."

Folken gapped. The woman rolled onto her side to study him, the curve of her breasts peeking through the v-neck of her shirt. Folken cleared his throat again and adjusted his cloak. "Uh–I think I should go check on Dilandau again. He looked a little flushed when I..."

"You need to learn the different between a blush and a flush, my dear. Our little Dilandau has been kissed, and now it's about time I get kissed. Come on, I promise to keep my hands where you can see them. Honestly, I've never met such a prudish man. I bet Lord Dryden would love–"

Folken was hot, and it wasn't for Marie. The thought of Dryden coming in here while Marie was lying in bed and taking advantage of her made him want to hit something. "Dryden better not try anything. You're mine."

Marie's brows shot up and her lips formed a perfect "o". "My, my, Mr. Manners is certainly possessive, and I think it's kind of sexy. I'm yours, huh?"

Folken was slowly cooling and as his temperature lowered his rationale returned. Oh gods. Had he said– well, she was. Even if he didn't think he could do what she was ready to do just yet, he didn't want anyone else thinking they could. Marie was special and she deserved someone who would treat her like she was special. A shallow person like Dryden wouldn't be able to appreciate Marie's finer qualities, the ones that made her intelligent and challenging and witty, and beautiful.

Folken undid the clasp at his neck and his cloak fell away. He moved to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it and leaning over to remove his boots. Marie hummed again as she sat up and scooted to him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head against his back. She was warm, soft, and not wearing a brassiere. The skin on Folken's back was very sensitive to touch, and he could feel her hardening nipples shielded only by a thin shirt.

There would be no children to interrupt them this time. They were all occupied. Shesta and Viole were in bed. Dilandau and Guimel were playing cards. Gatty, Miguel and Dallet were working with cadets in their training hall. Pearce was probably monitoring the war. As much as Folken wanted to put the war out of mind while saving Dilandau's life, he couldn't. Communication systems had been wired into every melef and leviship fighting under the Astorian flag and every lookout point within the borders. Folken would have play by play details given to him about the war. He was confident that Astoria would take this battle from Zaibach, but he was still wary of Dornkirk. There was no telling what that man could have up his sleeves. Folken's eyes narrowed.

Oh. His back arched at Marie's teeth grazing his neck and his feet left the floor. He was no longer a gentleman. Folken laid down, letting Marie straddle him. He stared up at his grinning partner. "Let's make you infamous Mr. Manners."

Folken lay still as Marie undid the buttons of his shirt. "Tell me to stop, if you start feeling uncomfortable, Folken. Don't let me push you into giving more than you feel you can."

Folken nodded. He started trembling lightly. He didn't know if it was from apprehension or arousal; maybe it was both. Either way, Folken didn't want Marie to stop. Long fingers worked through his hair, slicking wayward strands out of his eyes and off his forehead. "You can touch me too, Folken."

Folken was stunned into action. Clumsy hands that felt as heavy as blocks reached out to cup Marie's firm buttocks. She gasped, then laughed, lowering her head until her hair tickled his chest. Folken felt something warm and wet dragging across the skin of his chest. She was tasting him. Folken wondered what he tasted like, what she tasted like today. He caught her head, stilling it, and she looked at him. "Kiss me," Folken said softly and she complied, sliding further up his body.

Blankets rustled and pillows fell to the floor. "Mmm..."

"Yes..."

"Um, excuse me."

"Ack!" Marie tumbled off the bed onto the floor as Folken bolted into an upright position. Folken stared at the intruder, the girl who had traveled with Van, the one from the Mystic Moon, Hitomi. She stood in the doorway that Folken had left slightly ajar, stupid him, looking at him with wide green eyes.

Marie sat up, rubbing the back of her head and glaring. "Dammit Folken, you act like you're 16 and being caught by Mom and Dad! Nobody's even naked yet!"

Folken blinked and looked down at his exposed chest. He hastily began to button his shirt. "May I help you, young lady?"

The skinny girl looked from Folken to Marie nervously, before strengthening her resolve. She stood up straight and raised her chin slightly. "I want you to tell me how I can help stop Zaibach. I want to end the fighting, and something tells me you have what I need."

Folken frowned at the girl. Folken had something she needed?

Marie stood up, running her hands through her hair. "Yeah, he's got something I need too, but children around these parts are dead-set on keeping me from getting it." She looked at Hitomi pointedly and Hitomi stiffened.

"I–I'm sorry. I just–my pendant is resonating. It's being drawn to something in the castle that I can't find on my own, and I think you know what it is, Folken."

Marie turned to catch Folken's eye.

"Your pendant." Folken squinted at the necklace around the girl's neck. The jewel looked like a fragment of the stones powering Dornkirk's engines. Could it be a piece of the machine? The girl had the power to see the future and travel between worlds. Folken pushed himself off the bed and stood.

"Folken?" Marie asked as Folken walked toward the girl. "Where are you going?"

"To join Pearce in the lower chamber, I want to show Hitomi something."

Marie flopped back on the bed. "You want to show her that junk you salvaged from the Vione?"

"Junk?" Hitomi questioned.

"It's not junk," Folken said simply. 'It's Plan B.' "I'll be back later. Please, follow me, Hitomi."

* * *

Folken guided Hitomi to the end of the hall, away from the main stairwell and toward the servants' entrance. The stairway was narrow and dimly lit by oil lanterns that needed refueling. Folken would have to see to it. He hadn't been down this way since Dilandau's turn for the worst, and had been surprised to find out that Pearce hadn't been down either. Pearce had been picking up Folken's slack at Dryden's table and meeting with the generals privately amongst other things.

"Where are we going, Folken?"

Folken didn't turn his head to look at the girl on his heels. "To see if what's upsetting your pendant really has anything to do with me. There's a small basement that used to be a servants' quarters before the Astorian Living Quality Acts that I have been using as a storage facility."

"Storage facility?"

The stairway ended and Folken's boots crunched over the moist gravel of the floor. He removed the last lantern from its hook in the stone wall and held it up to light the way.

"There were some things from the floating fortress Vione that my associate and I salvaged from the crash. I took it as a sign that they weren't destroyed and thought them too invaluable to be left behind."

They stood in a small grotto facing a stone wall and four doors. Folken moved toward the second to last door on the right and knocked once before opening it.

"You don't keep the door locked?"

"No need. No one comes down here anymore. Dryden couldn't fathom why I wanted to, but when I told him, he sanctioned it and forbade anyone else entrance with little resistance."

Folken stepped into the medium sized room, nodding at Pearce who sat by a long table lining the far wall. A large communication device was on the table, wires twisting and disappearing into the floor and antennas pointing toward the ceiling, receiving transmissions from and relaying messages to all sides of the battle. Dallet had helped Folken and Pearce with the extra wiring enabling them to hack into Zaibach and allied networks. Once again, Folken was glad the Slayers were on their side. Gaea would have truly been in peril had the enemy still had those boys in their employ.

"Lord Folken, the fighting is steadily moving away from the capital city and several floating fortresses have been destroyed. Though, there have been heavy casualties in the ranks of our Cesarian allies, our reserves are looking quite healthy. However, it seems Adelphos is holding back for some reason, so he may have a hidden ace. The Zaibach troops aren't talking about it, but the Four Generals don't sound as worried as they should be given the situation."

Folken nodded. Zaibach would not be defeated this quickly or easily, no matter how well Folken had prepared the armies against it. He followed Pearce's analytical gaze to Hitomi behind him. "Come, Hitomi."

There was a larger room attached to the communications quarter. The door creaked as Folken had to use a little force to get it open.

"I'll oil it tomorrow," Pearce said dryly, his attention going back to the wire. Folken heard the low murmur of his voice as he spoke to someone on the field. Dilandau would love to be down here.

Folken flipped a switch and waited for the old hanging light to come on. It hummed for a moment before winking on and shining a dull light on a large machine that resembled two, titanic cones attached at their open ends and perched atop a sphere near the back of the room. Hitomi gasped.

"What is it?"

Folken moved aside so the girl could walk past him to the machine. "It's a satellite of Dornkirk's Fate Alteration Engine that I saved from the Vione."

Hitomi's little fingers covered her pendant. "I feel a pull to this device, Folken. This is what I need to get to Emperor Dornkirk. Can I use this machine to create a pillar of light? I must speak to the Emperor and get him to stop the fighting."

Folken's brows raised. Get him to stop the fighting? Did this girl honestly think her words could stop that man from going after what he wanted? Folken studied the slight teenager, noting the glint in her eyes.

She really did think she could fix things with naive words and a gentle heart. Realizing this made Folken feel so old. He could scarcely remember when he used to think his words could solve any problem, and that things would always go his way if he really wanted it to. Shaking his head, Folken sighed.

"I believe there is a way to get to the Emperor using this device. A wave in tune with the Emperor's Fate Alteration Engine should be able to direct a pillar to the location of the main device. I brought this machine here to use for that purpose, should things not go in our favor. If this happens, I will be the one to confront Dornkirk– " to do what needs to be done. Folken kept a sharp sword in its sheath beside the machine, ready for his trip.

Hitomi gasped, and Folken gazed at the girl. Her eyes were unfocused and her face was pale. She shook her head and looked at Folken, lips trembling. "You–you can't go see the Emperor. If you do– if you do you'll die."

Folken took a deep breath. The girl had proven herself as a psychic, so Folken had little doubt that she had seen a future thread displaying his death, but that was all it was. A thread. Years working for the Emperor told Folken not to trust Fate and Fortunes. Nothing was set in stone and futures viewed remotely were only things that could happen, and rarely ever did because people were fickle and changed their minds often.

"Hitomi, the future is subject to change. If I confront Dornkirk I may die and I may not; either way, it is my choice to make. That's something Dornkirk must learn as well. People make their own choices. There isn't a way to shape the future without actively taking a hand in it."

Hitomi bit her lip and looked off to the side of the machine at his sword. "You–you intend to kill him?"

"If I have to. The Emperor will not listen to words. He is beyond that. He was beyond that when he left his world, your world. He must be stopped at all cost."

Hitomi gulped. "I don't know if I could stand by and let you do that. There has to be a way to stop this without killing people."

She gazed at the machine, at his sword, at him, with hands clenched at her sides. "I'll figure out what it is, and I'll be back, Folken. Don't do anything without me here."

Folken was beginning to see why he thought Van had liked this girl. There was some fire to her, though she was a gentle breeze compared to Dilandau.

Before Folken could answer the girl, she was showing herself out of the room. Folken heard Pearce give her a monotone farewell, meaning she'd left the other chamber too. Well.

Folken stepped back into the larger room with Pearce.

"I've brought down some sandwiches and wine, if you'd like to stay here and listen. Dallet, Gatty, and Miguel will join us soon."

Folken opened his mouth to say he should probably get back to Marie. He had left at a very awkward time, but Pearce spoke before he could. Folken really needed to get his words out faster.

"Marie's not happy with you, and it may not be safe for you to go back upstairs yet."

Folken stared. "Wha–how do you..."

Pearce pointed at the small comm connected to the larger one in front of him. "She called me. Told me to tell you to stay your ass here. Her words, sir."

Folken ran a hand through his hair. A woman scorned indeed. He pulled up a chair beside Pearce, deciding he'd rather listen to war than Marie's latest rant. Maybe meeting with Dornkirk and impending death wasn't so bad compared to what he'd face in a few hours.

* * *

"... and then after I got Raul off Joss, I decided to hell with the rust buckets, you know? No way they're sending that stuff out there to represent Astoria, not unless they're trying to win by having Zaibach die of laughter. So, I was like, ok, what else can be done?"

Shesta lay on his bed with his arms tucked behind his head, listening to Viole as the other boy paced in front of his window. Viole had come in a little while ago, after being gone for hours, dressed in plain clothes and smelling of bath salts. Honestly, as much as Viole teased Miguel about his luxurious baths, Viole was no stranger to perfumed soaps either. It made Shesta wonder what nobles who weren't soldiers did all day. Bathe and try on silk?

"...so we went out into town. It's like no one out there could really believe the war might come inside the Palas Bubble, you know? Some people were boarding stuff up, but a few of the stores were still open and people were in there buying stuff like shoes and purses. These people see all these war toys and soldiers in armor and think we're going to costume parties or something."

"Or maybe they're just that confident that we'll win," Shesta said. "There's no reason for us not to." He sat up slowly and stretched his arms with a yawn. He was still a bit achy and a little tired, but for the most part, Shesta felt better than he had in days. He was sorry that he couldn't go see Lord Dilandau, and sorry that he'd gotten Viole sick, but he was grateful for the rest. His body needed it.

Dr. Marie said he had gotten sick, because he let himself get too run down. His body was making him have to rest. If anyone else got sick, then they desperately needed to rest too.

Viole stopped ranting and turned to face Shesta, weary dark, blue eyes large. "More than half of our cadets are out there, Shes."

Shesta sighed. "Fools."

"Dead fools," Viole said softly. "Lord Dilandau knew it would happen."

Shesta nodded. Of course he did. Shesta thought they all had. "You didn't anticipate this happening? Why else would Lord Dilandau agree to take on so many students, if he didn't think some of them would be leaving us? Astoria gets her soldiers either way, some for during the war, some for after."

Viole frowned. "I didn't understand why, but didn't ask. I guess I just don't automatically think that way."

No, Viole didn't automatically think that way.

Shesta set his stockinged feet on the floor, frowning at his mismatched socks– one

green, one blue with white stripes– then looked over at Viole. The dark-haired boy was pale and tense.

When they'd first met, Shesta had thought Viole was too soft to be a soldier. He let things bother him, like people he killed in battle, when others might not spend more than a moment thinking on it. But, Shesta learned over time that Viole was stronger than he seemed, so something such as disobedient cadets shouldn't bother him this much. There was something else.

"What's wrong, Vi?" Shesta rose, loose cotton pants sliding down to rest low on his hips. A long sleeved shirt stopped just below the top of the pants.

"It's Heather." Ah, the girlfriend. "The troupe moved out and I don't know which way they went. When we were in town, helping people board up windows and pack up, I asked around. She said they wanted to get away before the big war started, but Mrs. K from the Sweete Shoppe said the troupe left last night. That's not enough time for them to have gotten very far, Shes."

No, it wasn't. Shesta came to stand in front of Viole, resting his hands on Viole's narrow shoulders. "They waited too late to leave. They should have gone to one of the shelters in town."

Viole nodded. "Yeah. I–told her she could come here. There's all kinds of rooms, if she didn't want to–to stay with me. Because, I wouldn't ask her to sleep with me or anything if she didn't want to, and I didn't want her to feel pressured to, but she said no. And she didn't ask me to come with her, because she knew I'd say no. So we– we kinda broke up a little, but she said she'd write to me. And– and I can't even tell Miguel, because–"

Viole's eyes filled. Heather was Viole's first girlfriend. Shesta and the others, with the exception of Lord Dilandau, had all been with women before. Courting and holding hands was old business. Break-ups were common and letters went unanswered, but Shesta thought back to his first girlfriend and smiled, when it was new, it was beautiful. Shesta hugged Viole and the dark-haired boy lowered his head onto Shesta's shoulder.

"I want to go out after her, but– Lord Dilandau would... I don't want to worry him. He doesn't need that."

Shesta hummed his agreement, stroking Viole's hair and noting how warm his friend was.

"I just–want to talk to Lord Dilandau, to talk to Miguel. Miguel helped me come up with things to say to her and pick out gifts, and Lord Dilandau really likes listening to my stories. They met her. Miguel met her twice."

Shesta slowly guided Viole to his bed, pressing him to sit. Viole hunched over, wavy hair falling into his eyes. "I just don't want her to die, Shes. I had no idea she was still in town. I thought she'd left a week ago. If she had come to me and let me know she was still here, I wouldn't have let her go."

Shesta unlaced Viole's boots, then swung his friend's legs up onto the bed. Viole started, falling back onto Shesta's pillows. "Shes?"

"Yes, Viole?"

"What are you doing?"

"Putting you to bed," Shesta said. He unfolded the blanket at the foot of his bed and spread it over Viole. "You're exhausted and sick."

Shesta lay down on his side next to Viole, propping himself up with his elbow. "Look, I know you care for Heather, Viole. She's a nice girl, but she's got a whole group of people to take care of her. Those people she's with have been traveling a long time, and I'm sure they know how to take care of themselves. After this is all over, maybe you'll get a letter from her."

"But–"

"But what? What else can you do? You're not going after her. You're staying with your family and she's staying with hers. Trust them to take care of her, like we take care of each other."

Viole blinked and rubbed at his eyes. "I guess I can, Shes. I mean, I kinda have to. I just–don't like thinking about it, because I like her a lot."

"I understand." Shesta rolled onto his back. "There have been girls that I've cared a lot about too, and it's hard not knowing what happened to them sometimes."

Viole made a funny sound and Shesta turned his head to see the imp chuckling at him.

"What?"

"Geez, Shes, girls that you've cared about? Do we know about all these girls?"

Shesta flushed. "Not all of them. I don't kiss and tell like some people. I've had a few girlfriends. Most of them were before I met you guys though."

"Shesta, the secret lady's man," Viole tittered. "Maybe I should have asked you for pointers. Miguel's only had two girlfriends."

Shesta rolled his eyes. Viole was feeling better if he was teasing, but Shesta never liked being the object of his attention. "Good for Miguel. Now, what else was going on out there, before you left? You see any fighting?"

Viole shook his head. "No, but I heard it. There are a lot of big machines out there, Shes. It was creepy watching them all fly overhead. The officers want to push the fight as far away from Palas as they can get it, but Zaibach's pushing them back in. A lot of the people from the shops ended up following us back to the castle to wait inside the walls instead of going to the shelters. I think they're overcrowded. Oi–what's this? You've got books in your bed, Shes. Miss Agatha Finch's Illegitimate Incident?"

Shesta snatched the pink book away from Viole before he could open it. "It's not mine."

"Then why's it in your bed?" Viole asked, shifting around and making himself comfortable. Shesta hoped there were no more books to be uncovered. He thought he had returned them all. Well, all except for the one he held. He was still reading it. He wanted to know if Agatha's baby would turn out to be the Duke of Earls'. That would certainly make the King of Hearts pretty mad. Shesta was rooting for the Duke though. Poor guy was a misunderstood loner and an orphaned widower to boot.

"Marie left it." Shesta put the book on his night stand for later.

Viole gave him a funny look, then frowned again. "Found something else. Oh-la-la, what's this? A letter from one of your many girls?"

Shesta reached to take the folded sheet of paper from Viole, but the other boy held it just out of his reach. "Let's see, to my dearest Shesta..." Viole began in a falsetto voice, then he stopped and blinked. "This is from Lord Dilandau. Eat shit and die?"

Shesta chuckled. "We've been passing notes with Guimel as a delivery boy."

"What did you say to make him write this?" Viole asked.

"I just asked him how he liked his kiss."

"His what?"

"Van kissed him."

Viole rolled until he was nearly on top of Shesta, staring down at him. "No way!"

"Van kissed him twice."

"And what did Lord Dilandau do?"

Shesta chuckled. "Wouldn't you like to know."

"Shesta!"

Shesta felt particularly evil at that moment. "Well, I remember admiring a belt you own. I wouldn't mind adding it to my collection, if you'd be generous enough to–"

"Shesta!" Viole gripped his collar, face incredulous and Shesta laughed.

"Lord Dilandau hasn't really said anything about it yet. He's still trying to figure out what he thinks about it. Guimel says he's been walking around with a silly little smile on his face though, so our guess is that the odds are in Van's favor."

"Yes!" Viole cheered, then coughed, hard. "Ow."

Shesta winced in empathy. "Sorry about that."

Viol glared at him. "I've been meaning to thank you for this, asshole." Viole rolled off him and settled against the pillows again. "So, Lord Dilandau and you are passing notes, huh?"

"Yeah. You should join in. You know he'd love to hear from you."

"Yeah," Viole said and was silent for a moment. Shesta sat up to look at him.

"What is it?"

"If I wrote Lord Dilandau a note, do you think it would be a bad idea for me to mention that the generals stole our Silvers and are using them in battle?"

"They stole WHAT?"

The bed trembled and things on Shesta's dressers and table rattled as a bright light flashed through the window, making everything in the room look white for an instant. Shesta jumped out of bed and ran to the window to peer out. "What the hell was that?"

There was an ungraceful thud and Viole staggered to the window with Shesta's comforter wrapped around one of his legs. "Holy shit, you think that was one of Zaibach's floating mines?"

Shesta shook his head. "I hope not." The floating weapons were used to stop airships, but sometimes their engines were cut and they fell on enemy cities and military camps.

"Shesta, should we wait here to find out, or should we go..."

Shesta was already moving to his closet to get his boots. There was no way in hell he was going to sit in here not knowing what was going on. Did the city need to be evacuated; did the troops need more firepower? Shesta could help. He ran for the door, not waiting for Viole to finish struggling out of the blanket and put his boots back on.

The door to Lord Dilandau's room slammed open and Guimel bolted out. Shesta nearly rammed into him. "Did you feel that?"

"I saw it!"

"I think it was a floating mine!" Viole joined them. "What do we do?"

Marie stepped into the hall, looking fresh from a shower. The back of her shirt was damp where her hair lay against it. She glanced at them briefly, then turned and ran for the back stairwell, probably going to that cellar Folken and Pearce haunted full of dust, old Zaibach machines, and– the communication systems linked to all of the ally melefs.

Guimel and Viole pushed past Shesta, running after Marie, and Shesta followed, albeit more slowly. He kept looking over his shoulder. There was something they were forgetting, but he didn't have time to remember what it was now. The castle might fall down around his ears before his brain came back from vacation. He'd figure it out later.

"Hey, slow down on the stairs you two, and wait for me!"

* * *

Dilandau told himself he would wait for five minutes, and if no one came back to tell him what the hell was going on, he was leaving. He waited for three, at two minutes he was dragging his pole to the closet to get his robe. He shouldn't have taken the thing off.

Damn. Damn. Damn! Every time a wheel snagged in the carpet Dilandau growled. Screw this. He unhooked the bag of fluid from the pole and carried it with him. If he didn't think he'd rip a hole in his chest, he would have pulled the IV out altogether. Marie purposefully didn't show him how to unhook himself. Red Witch.

He pulled on his robe and dropped the bag of medicine into the large pocket. Dilandau would thank Dallet again for his gifts, or had Guimel given him the robe? He walked to the dividing curtain, his hand pausing before he threw it open. He shouldn't do this. Marie and Folken told him how dangerous it was for him to leave his room right now. He couldn't afford to get sick, but he also couldn't afford to have Zaibach win this war with dirty tricks either, not with his family on the field.

He stepped through the curtain and stopped at the table inside the door, staring at the sealed containers of gloves, masks, and smocks. Dilandau took a mask and a pair of gloves, fumbling to put them on as he left the room. He stood in the hallway, frowning at how long it seemed to him. The others were probably down in Folken's dungeon, listening to the war. Dilandau's muscles shook with fatigue. Maybe he could make it down the hall, but how would he get down the stairs?

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, alerting him that someone was nearing him. Sharp ears heard small feet crossing the carpet in soft shoes, and Dilandau turned slightly to see who his company was. The girl from the Mystic Moon marched down the hall with a determined look on her face. She slowed and stopped when she reached Dilandau.

"Hi." She stared at him, eyes lingering on his mask and the skinny tube poking through his pajama top that trailed off into his pocket. "You– are you going to see Folken?"

Dilandau scowled and reached up to pull off the mask, tugging it down around his neck. His breath was hot and he was starting to feel claustrophobic behind the cloth. How could the others stand to wear them? "Are you really familiar enough with Folken to refer to him in such an informal way, girl?"

She blinked, color rising to her cheeks. "He's never objected to it before!" Placing her hands on her hips, the girl turned on a heel, meaning to walk away from him, but Dilandau caught her arm.

She was headed toward the back stairwell. How did this girl know where Folken probably was, and why? "Hey, there's a war going on and Folken's too busy to talk to you. Go back where you came from."

The girl snatched her arm out of his hold and Dilandau growled. "He's not too busy to talk to me! I want the fighting to stop before anymore people get hurt. He told me he could get to the Emperor."

Dilandau felt hot and cold at the same time, and his shaky knees chose that time to fold. He stumbled, catching the wall to support himself.

"Oh my God, are you ok?" The anger was gone from the girl's voice as she took one of his arms. "Here, sit down."

Dilandau didn't want to sit, but he couldn't fight the hands guiding him to the floor. Folken wanted to confront Dornkirk alone? No, surely not alone. He'd take Pearce and Dilandau, or someone Dilandau chose if Dilandau couldn't go. Folken wasn't a solider. Did the man even know how to hold a sword? Folken would get hurt, Folken might...

"Hey, put your head between your knees. That always helps me when I feel faint."

"Folken said he was going to Dornkirk?" Dilandau didn't do as the girl's hands pressed him to do. He looked up at her through his bangs. "How?" Dornkirk was thousands of miles away, floating hundreds of feet in the air, lording over the skies of Zaibach. The girl spoke as if Folken could open a doorway right onto his leviship. And hell, maybe he could. Enough weird things happened around here for Dilandau to believe anything was possible. That was why his stomach churned at the girl's words.

"He's going to use the machine he saved from– "

"The Vione." Dilandau didn't know that piece of junk worked. It sat dead and collecting dust in the back room of Folken's layer. Dilandau thought Folken was going to let Dallet scrap it for parts.

"I'm going to use it instead of him. I'm going to the Emperor." The girl's jaw was set. "I think–I feel that I'm the only one who can fix this."

Dilandau wanted to snort. Just who was this girl again? Were all aliens from the Mystic Moon insane? What did she think she could say to Dornkirk that someone else hadn't already and what made her think Dornkirk would listen? Dilandau's eyes settled upon the jeweled pendant she wore around her neck and memories of hunting the Escaflowne came back to him. He saw the white dragon with Van piloting and the girl riding on its shoulder, pointing out where Dilandau and his Slayers stood invisible in the woods. Van and this girl did scary things together.

She had power.

"You should go back to your room. You're not well, and–and Van's worried about you. Don't make it worse by making yourself worse. He–he really cares about you, you know? He's been... ignoring me lately, so he can be around you. I– "

Dilandau's brows rose. The girl's eyes watered as she spoke of Van and she looked away from him for a moment. Was she upset because Van cared about him? Why would she– unless she...

"Oh God, I think... No, no it can't be that." She met his eyes again with a smile. "It's great that you two can put the past behind you and become such good friends. If you can do it, anyone can. You're an example of why this war can be won without fighting."

Dilandau blinked, not following her jump from one conclusion to another without ever stating a hypothesis. How could Van or Allen stand her? Wait–wasn't she with Allen? He remembered the first night he'd seen her. Allen had said she was his lover.

"I'll get someone for you. You look like you're going to throw up."

The girl made to rise and Dilandau grabbed her arm again. Now was not the time for Dilandau to have a Dallet moment. "You're going to Folken?"

The strange girl nodded. "But after I help you."

"You can help me by taking me with you." Dilandau swallowed all pride and dignity as he stretched his hands out for the girl to pull him to his feet. He staggered a bit, righting himself quickly without her help. "I'm ok now, but I don't think I can– " he sighed, "–make it down the stairs by myself."

The girl looked uncertain. "I don't know. I don't think I should. You should be in bed."

"And you should be on the Mystic Moon, but we're both here, and we both have jobs to do. You wanna talk to the Emperor; I wanna talk to Folken. Our goal is downstairs."

With that, Dilandau proceeded to walk down the hall, his pace slow but unwavering. After a few steps, the girl was at his side. "When we get to the stairs, put your arm around my neck and I'll grab you around the waist."

"All right."

* * *

"Now we're losing the signal from Basram! Are you sure you know what you're doing, Dallet?" Miguel's voice was shriller than Gatty had ever heard it.

"Yes, I know what I'm doing Miguel! All that hot air you're blowing is making me lose the damn signal, so shut up!" Dallet snapped.

Gatty knelt beside Dallet, who was half under the table the communications device sat on, fiddling with wires. Dallet's rear end wiggled as he grunted and shifted positions. "Pearce, move antenna J, two centimeters to the left," Dallet said.

"You've already had him do that and we ended up with static!"

"Miguel, sit down!" Shesta stood at the end of the table by antennas dubbed H and Q, ready to move them at Dallet's say so. Viole stood at A and Guimel at V, and Marie hovered near Folken shooting random questions at him.

The peaceful storage room had become a war zone in a matter of minutes. One second Gatty, Miguel and Dallet were sharing drinks with Lord Folken and Pearce, talking about women and manhood and cheering for their side of the war, the next there was radio silence, then a lot of yelling and screaming. Dr. Marie, Guimel, Shesta and Viole had run in next, ranting about flashes of light and rattling foundations.

"Clear channel," Pearce said and Gatty got to his feet to join the crowd growing around Pearce.

"... a bomb from Basram. They weren't just aiming to take out Zaibach. This is a declaration of war on everyone."

"This is our chance to bring glory to Basram! Astoria will no longer be the center of power."

"The alliance is broken!"

"This isn't a war, it's a massacre. Who are we fighting? Who are we..."

"Waiting for orders to retreat, there can be no winners here."

"They're monsters, worse than Zaibach ever was. You won't win..."

Gatty's eyes were wide as he gazed at his companions. The only sound in the room was the hiss of the speakers, the panicked voices of terrified and crazed soldiers looking to kill for power, and heavy breathing.

"Folken, you planned for everything, right? You planned for this?" Dr. Marie's voice was so soft, Gatty almost didn't recognize it. He'd never heard her sound scared.

Lord Folken's face was pale, his lips a straight line. "I..."

"Did you?" Dr. Marie asked. Gatty leaned in. Why wasn't Lord Folken answering and saying that he had planned all of this in a self-assured tone? This whole war had been worked out. They didn't have anything to worry about. That was why they were in here relaxing instead of smoking the battlefield. Had they been mistaken? Had Lord Folken miscalculated?

"Lord Folken, should we mobilize? I can–" Gatty began, but Lord Folken held out a hand to silence him.

"I didn't plan for the Allies to turn against each other. The war I prepared for was against Zaibach, not ourselves."

"Zaibach is defeated," Pearce said. "Adelphos is retreating; two of the Four Armies won't respond."

"Zaibach is not defeated so long as the Emperor lives," Lord Folken said solemnly. He turned and began walking toward the smaller room. "Dornkirk will make his move now."

"What move? What are you talking about?" Dr. Marie asked.

"Lord Folken, what can the Emperor do without an army? He can't fight himself," Shesta said. "Shouldn't we be trying to see what we can do to stop the Allies from destroying each other?"

"What the hell can we do to stop them from ripping each other apart?" Guimel asked. "Even if we were out there, we would have been lucky not to be taken out by that damn bomb! We'd have to take a side and fight for it or be attacked on all sides. Face it, we're pawns again. First, we were pawns for Zaibach, now we're pawns for Astoria. We came here to get rid of Zaibach and then be free men. Now what?"

"We should secure the palace. We need to protect the King and Princesses and Dryden. We could try to barricade the capitol until they're safely evacuated."

"And be like Freid, cowards that desert their homes?" Miguel asked, lip curled in disgust. "I won't do that. We've moved so many times this year, and now we've finally settled down somewhere. We should fight."

"We would fight if we could win, Miguel. The odds are not in our favor. General Alloju's giving a status report. A sixth of the Astorian army was destroyed in the explosion, another sixth was lost in battle. That's a third of the army gone. If the war comes this way..." Gatty trailed off. If the war came their way, they'd either have to run or be killed. But–but maybe that was their Fate. Gatty thought back to that day on the Vione when they'd made the choice to save Lord Dilandau, to be the String that survived to protect him. They could have easily been one of the teams that stayed behind and died. They could have easily been overpowered before they'd escaped. Perhaps Fate was catching up with them and they were all living on borrowed time after all Maybe Miguel was right. They'd run the last time and this time they should stay and fight.

"What do we do, Lord Folken? You said you didn't plan for the Allies to turn against each other, but you think Dornkirk will make his move because of it. What do you have to use against the Emperor?" Gatty asked.

"Me."

A girl's voice carried across the grungy room and Gatty turned to see the girl from the Mystic Moon entering the room, supporting Lord Dilandau.

"Gods-dammit Dilandau!" Dr. Marie shouted.

"Oh my gods, that's what we forgot!" Shesta ran a hand through his hair.

"Stupid brat! I told you not to leave your room." Dr. Marie stalked to Lord Dilandau, ripping him away from the Mystic Moon witch and pulling him toward herself. "Where's your IV? Your pocket? You little– well, you've got on gloves at least." She fumbled with something at his neck, a mask, and pulled it up over his face. "Why didn't you have it on?"

"It was suffocating me." Lord Dilandau's voice was muffled, he reached up and tugged the mask off again. "What does it matter now? I've breathed the air; I've been exposed. I don't care about germs, if we're all going to be blown to bits soon. What the hell is going on?"

"Basram dropped a bomb–on everyone. The Allies have declared war on each other. It's chaos. People are just out fighting to be fighting, and Lord Folken's got some awesome hidden plan to fix all this and isn't telling." Dallet folded his arms over his chest.

"Folken!" Lord Dilandau glared at the ex-Strategos, who was coming toward him.

"Dilandau, you should go back to your room. What needs to be done here, I will do."

"No, I'll do it!" The girl was moving closer to the group. "You said you could get me to Emperor and the time is now. I feel like I have to go now."

Go to the Emperor? They were talking about doing that like Dornkirk was in the next room.

"Hello, Gaea to fruitcakes. Lord Folken, please don't tell us that your great plan is to bundle up and fly to Zaibach to have tea with the Emperor." Guimel looked ready to draw a sword from the sky to slice Folken in half with, if he said another word.

"Folken's got a machine that'll take him to Dornkirk," Lord Dilandau said flatly. Lord Folken blinked, seeming shocked by Lord Dilandau's words, then understanding filtered into his gaze.

"Hitomi told you."

"She thinks she can talk to Dumbshit and have him stop all this. She says you think you're going in alone to talk to him. I think you want to go in alone to kill him, and I think you're both too damn idealistic."

Gatty's head jerked from Lord Dilandau, to Lord Folken, to the girl. "What the hell are you all talking about?"

"It doesn't matter if you understand," Lord Folken said.

"It does matter Lord Folken, because I've heard all I've needed to hear to know I'm going with you. It would be nice to be told what I'm getting into." Pearce stood up straight, stretching like a cat and pushing through the crowd gathering around Lord Folken, Lord Dilandau and the girl, Hitomi, to stand by Lord Folken.

"It has to do with the machine in the next room, doesn't it?" Dallet asked. "You told me it didn't work, but it does. What's it do?"

Lord Folken was shaking his head. "Pearce, you are not coming with me. No one is, and I'm telling you it..."

"That machine is connected to the Emperor's. Can it create portals of some sort and allow you to travel great distances?" Pearce pressed.

"What good is killing the damn Emperor going to do? The war against Zaibach is over; the people are killing each other just to be killing. This whole talk is shit."

"It's not shit, Guimel," Lord Dilandau said. Gatty frowned; Lord Dilandau was sweating. "It may not make sense to you, to anyone who doesn't know, who hasn't felt the real power fueling Zaibach. The Madoushi, the Emperor, the faces of Zaibach, all play with Fate. They have technology that allow them to alter people and their choices. They can give life and take it away with a button, a syringe. They can turn people into monsters, grant wishes, separate souls from bodies."

"Dilandau?" Lord Folken put an arm around Lord Dilandau's shoulders and pulled him closer. "You shaking. You need– "

"To be here," Lord Dilandau said. "I have to tell them who and what we're fighting. They don't know. They never knew."

"Now's not the time."

"Then when is? When we're all dead. When the Emperor's captured everyone to use in his experiments?"

"Dil–"

"The Emperor's a monster with the power of the gods in his hands. He's got a machine tens times bigger than Folken's hunk of junk on his airship that he's going to use to change everything. Am I right, Folken? Is he going to change the world to how he feels it should be with that machine?"

Lord Folken looked shocked again, and this time the shock didn't fade. Lord Dilandau chuckled. "You underestimate me, Folken. You always have."

Gatty tried so hard to understand. He was still missing big pieces of the puzzle, but the half picture he could create with the parts he had wasn't pretty. So, Dornkirk had some machine he was going to use to rule the world, or mold it rather. The machine was the driving force behind Zaibach, its main engine, and Folken had a way to get to it?

If Lord Folken had this resource, why were they here fighting for Astoria? Why had they sent an army out to be killed? Lord Folken could have ended it all a long time ago; they could have ended it.

"Lord Folken, why have you just been sitting on this? Why didn't you tell us? We could have finished this a long time ago," Shesta said. "People–civilians–were hurt, are going to get hurt. Soldiers, friends, have died, are dying."

"You don't understand..."

"Then help us understand. Tell us we haven't wasted our time." Shesta wrung his hands together.

"Going to Dornkirk was always the last resort. The man did not randomly found a nation. He is a genius from another time, another world, who wants to unlock the secrets of a lost civilization. The Emperor is not out to conquer, just to be part of a great change. He is a man of science who wants to see a theory proved true. A move against him must come at the right time, at the right moment. He's been planning this war for centuries."

Gatty gasped. Centuries? He knew the Emperor was ancient, but that was impossible.

"Using science and magic, Dornkirk guided us all here. He's found all the keys he needs to unlock the doors of Atlantis. A move made too soon, Dornkirk will see and thwart and the actions we all take may bring about the destruction of this world."

"In other words, moving against Dumbshit is a risk better not taken, but since we've got assholes blowing each other up, we've got no choice. For all we know, Dumbshit had a hand in the chaos. Maybe this was his plan, not for Zaibach to win, but for all hell to break loose. It's a perfect distraction. We, the people who sort of know what's going on and what he might be doing, are sitting here arguing instead of going after him." Lord Dilandau gulped and reached out to catch Lord Folken's arm.

Lord Folken rubbed his back. "You wouldn't be so nauseous, if you'd stay put."

"I'd stay put, if people would keep me informed. Somebody get me a chair." Gatty was already looking around for a nearby chair, before Lord Dilandau finished his request. Guimel dragged over a wooden chair with a blue, velvet cushion on its seat. Gatty didn't know some of the seats in the room had cushions. He'd killed his ass in the chair he was sitting in for half an hour.

Lord Dilandau sat down, placing a hand over his mouth for a moment. Guimel massaged the back of Lord Dilandau's neck with a hand, frowning down at him.

"So, when is this move to be made, Lord Folken, and what do you need; who do you need?" Shesta asked. "Pearce says he's going with you, this girl says she's going with you, will you be needing us as well?"

Lord Folken stammered. "I–I told you all how dangerous this is. I won't involve anyone else in–"

"You're talking like you expect anyone who goes to die, Folken," Lord Dilandau said.

Hitomi squeaked. Lord Folken's face was blank.

"Folken?" Lord Dilandau looked up at the man.

"Folken?" Dr. Marie asked.

"Nothing's predetermined, but there is a chance that I may die in the encounter. My life would be the exchange for– "

"The hell it will!" Dr. Marie shouted. "How do you know this? The machine alters Fate right? Does it also show you possible futures? Did you see your death?"

"I saw his death." Hitomi held the jewel of her necklace. "I had a vision of Folken facing the Emperor alone. It ended with him face down in a pool of his own blood."

Gatty shuddered. Soldiers told Gatty this girl was a witch, and he had proof from his dragon hunting days that Hitomi had power, but never before had he looked it in the face. This girl could see invisible guymelefs and the future. No wonder Van and Sir Allen kept her close. She was an asset.

"Then you can't go," Dr. Marie said. "You'll stay here and Pearce and the girl will go."

"I have to face Dornkirk, Marie."

"Why does it have to be you?" Dr. Marie moved so fast, Gatty would have missed it if he'd blinked. She was in Lord Folken's face, shoving him backward as she screamed at him. "Why do you have to take everything into your own hands? Everything isn't your damn fault and you don't have to fix it! You're talking about killing a man. Can you kill a man? For gods' sake, let Pearce go."

"Pearce alone couldn't cause the reaction needed to create the beacon of light that would take him to Dornkirk. It has to be me."

"Can't the girl create these beacons of light too? Isn't that how she got here?"

"How did you– ?"

"I'm not deaf, Folken. The girl will take Pearce..."

"She's not enough," Lord Folken said firmly.

"She'll have to be..."

There was a sharp whistle. "Marie, Folken, heel!" Lord Dilandau said. Both scientists gaped at Lord Dilandau as if he'd stripped naked and started doing acrobatics. "Hitomi said the vision showed Folken dying while facing the Emperor alone. She hasn't said anything about a vision of him dying while accompanied by other people. If Folken feels he has to go or it won't work, let him go, but the girl, Pearce, and... and Gatty and Dallet will go with him."

Gatty nearly fell over. Him? Lord Dilandau was volunteering him to have his molecules dispersed over thousands of miles to meet with an old man that should by all means be dead? If Lord Dilandau felt Gatty was brave enough to take on such a challenge, Gatty was honored, but– but no buts. He stopped his knees from quaking and stilled the tremor in his hands. He was Lord Dilandau's right hand; he represented Lord Dilandau when Lord Dilandau could not be present. He was stronger than he was acting right now.

"How does it work?" Dallet asked. He was the only one who hadn't clustered in to join the huddle around Lord Dilandau, Lord Folken and Hitomi. He sat on the table with the communication devices. "From the sound of things, we need to figure this out soon."

Lord Folken clenched and unclenched the fingers of his metal hand. His brow wrinkled and the corners of his mouth twitched. Was he angry? "You don't know what you're getting yourselves into."

"Neither do you," Lord Dilandau said flatly, "and in my experience, it's better to go into blind situations with as much back up as can be spared. I can't go with you Folken, and neither can Miguel, Viole, Shesta, or Marie. Guimel..."

"I'm staying with you. If anything happens, I have to be here. Vi and Shes are sick, and Miguel's hurt," Guimel said.

"They'll have to be enough. Folken, you really believe you can stop this man, or you wouldn't be so dead set about going. Hitomi believes she can stop this man. You two have powers I won't try to understand, but I trust you Folken, and I trust Pearce, Gatty and Dallet. If there's anything you can do, it'll be done and _they_'ll bring you back in one piece."

Gatty grinned at Lord Dilandau's confidence in him. Hell, it made him believe he could stop the Emperor too, and he would.

All eyes were on Lord Folken, waiting for him to relent and tell them his awesome plan of flying to the Emperor and inviting themselves in for tea. Lord Dilandau raised a brow, and Dr. Marie pinched Lord Folken, squeezing until he yelped.

"Fine! Fine! Come, and pay attention, because I will only explain this once."

* * *

Folken felt very self conscious. He wasn't quite sure how to actually activate the machine, but he had a gut feeling that it would work if he wanted it to. He just had to focus his desire, his wish, to see Dornkirk and settle things between them. They stood in a circle near the machine, Folken, Pearce, Dallet and Gatty with Hitomi in the center as the point. The girl would guide their thoughts and mold their various wants into one with a single destination in mind.

Marie stood with her hands at her sides, patting her thighs. Her eyes told Folken how angry she was at him, but her hands told him that she wanted to come with him. Dilandau was next to Marie, slightly leaning on Guimel and Miguel. He nodded at Folken, when he caught his eyes and traded grins with Gatty and Dallet. Shesta and Viole stood apart from the group, Viole waving at them and Shesta looking anxious.

"Clear your minds everyone, and concentrate on the Emperor. Picture him in your minds and nothing else. We need to see the Emperor; we need to stop the war. We need to save the ones we love that are out on the battlegrounds right now. Clear your minds, and think of peace."

Folken gazed at Hitomi. The girl's eyes were closed as she stretched her hands out on either side of her. Dallet and Gatty each grabbed one of her hands and Dallet extended a hand to Folken. Folken took Dallet's hand and then Pearce's. He shut his eyes like Hitomi's and thought of Dornkirk's throne room. He could almost see the old man strapped into his mountain-like machine, peering through his scope at the futures he wanted to create. The futures Folken no longer wanted any part of.

Folken's body felt heavy and cold, as if someone had shoved him into a lake in the dead of winter and held him under water. He didn't dare open his eyes. He was flying, falling, then once again standing on solid ground.

"Dallet!" Folken heard Gatty call. Folken opened his eyes. The storage quarters was gone, replaced by a large circular room with dark walls and a glass roof. Folken's hand was still in Pearce's but Dallet's hand was missing. He looked down to see the boy sprawled on the round platform they stood on, mouthing 'holy shit.' Dallet's brown eyes were focused on a point well over Folken's head.

"You are here."

Folken's shoulders tensed and Pearce's hand slid out of his. Folken turned, lifting his head to take his first look at the Emperor in many months. The man's body was lost in a sea of cords and wires, but his blue eyes, sunken into a white face lined with age, were sound and sharp. His voice was clear, cultured and amplified by the acoustics of the room.

"So, all of the pieces I need have finally come to me."

"Is he talking to us?"

"Shut up, Dallet."

"The time has come to use the full power of the Fate Alteration Engine. All is proceeding according to my will."

Folken's heart was in his throat. "Your will?" Oh no, had they played themselves into Dornkirk's hands? This was what he was afraid of. His hands shook as he felt for the sword he'd strapped on moments earlier. The sword that Dilandau had rolled his eyes at. 'If you needed a sword, Folken, you should have asked for mine.'

What good is your sword without your skill, Dilandau? Folken had wanted to ask. He could use a sword, but Folken knew that he hadn't shown the same prowess when he was Van's age that Van did now, and he hadn't touched a sword since then.

"Yes, my will. I guided Fate so that you would bring the girl from the Mystic Moon to me."

Folken sucked in a breath, ignoring the worried chorus of murmurs around him. "Just how long do you plan to toy with Fate?" There was a fine tremor in his voice that he hoped no one heard.

Dornkirk looked down on Folken from his manmade Olympus. "A foolish question. You should know my true intentions."

"Then you should know what I'm determined to do." Folken's voice rose. Pearce moved closer to him.

"Lord Folken?"

"You've come to kill me, correct?" Dornkirk said. Folken heard the smirk in his voice. Was he mocking Folken? Did he think Folken couldn't kill him?

"Ah, shit. Is it too late to get out of here?"

"Dallet!"

"Come, Folken. Kill me."

Folken pulled the blade from its sheath, cringing at the sound of steel scraping across leather. The blade was long and clean, but Folken held it awkwardly.

"Lord Folken."

There was a loud hiss as metal folded away from Dornkirk's body, thick white steam cloaking the man's body, revealing nothing but a scrawny shadow. The smoke shifted from Dornkirk, misting down toward Folken and the others. Dornkirk rose from his throne, pale body naked to his waist and emaciated. His thick, white mane touched his feet and a straight beard fell to his knees.

"Aw gross."

"Dallet!"

Dornkirk spread his arms wide. "Come, Folken." He tossed his head back and laughed. Folken's eyes narrowed. Was Dornkirk laughing at him, baiting him? Probably, and Folken really shouldn't rise to it, but a chord in that laughter rubbed Folken's nerves raw. He wanted it to stop.

Folken pulled his shirt over his head with one arm, throwing it to the side and releasing his wings. White feathers fluttered to the ground. White? They'd returned to their normal color? When?

"Lord Folken!"

"What the hell..."

Folken started toward Dornkirk's Mountain at a run and flapped his wings. His feet left the ground, another flap took him higher. He used the steam from the machine as a thermal wind. Heat made things rise faster.

"Folken, no! The vision!" Hitomi screamed after him.

The vision of his death. Folken didn't want to die, but if his death meant Dornkirk's as well, so be it. I'm sorry Marie. I'm sorry Dilandau. I'm sorry Van... but I have to do this. Suddenly a large mass of flesh was hurtling toward him. "Lord Folken!"

Pearce? Folken didn't think; he dropped the sword to catch Pearce, before gravity had its way. They were probably about 15 feet from the ground and any landing Pearce could have had would not have been graceful. Folken dipped, struggling to adjust to Pearce's added weight. "Pearce, you fool!"

Folken's gaze was wild as he saw the ledge Pearce must have climbed to and leapt from to intercept Folken. Folken wanted to set Pearce down.

"Keep going."

Folken's breath caught in his throat. "Wha..."

"Take me to the Emperor. I'll tell you when to let go."

Folken gritted his teeth. Pearce emanated calmness and precision. He didn't say another word to Folken, and Folken didn't feel inclined to argue. Pearce had made his decision, and perhaps it was one Dornkirk hadn't predicted.

They neared Dornkirk. The man still stood with his arms thrown out wide, like he was waiting for Folken, a prodigal son returned, to give him a hug. "Now, Lord Folken."

Folken released Pearce, swinging him forward to give him a running start on the few feet left to Dornkirk's peak. Great relief flooded through his arms when Pearce's weight disappeared and he flew higher, over Dornkirk's head looking down as Pearce hopped onto the Emperor's platform. Dornkirk's eyes widened briefly before returning to their normal state. So, he didn't expect Pearce's coming. Pearce drew a sword from his belt and, in one blow, decapitated Dornkirk. Dornkirk's severed head rolled from his neck and splattered onto the floor. Long white hair coiled around the head like serpents and the body fell forward with a wet _thwack_.

Pearce cleaned his blade on the Emperor's robes and sheathed it. Folken drifted down and landed behind Dornkirk's chair, staring at the mess. He was dead. Dornkirk was dead. "It's over."

Pearce nudged Dornkirk's remains with his boot. "It looks that way."

More steam rose from the machine and lights began to flash. Folken took a cautious step back. The Fate Alteration Engine...had it been activated by Dornkirk's death? Had they played into his hands again?

"Lord Folken, what's happening?" Gatty's voice echoed from below. He sounded unnerved. Was he just reacting to what Pearce and Folken had done or was something going on down there?

"We've got a light show down here! I think someone just turned the machine on!" Dallet.

"Lord Folken."

Folken looked to Pearce, understanding passing between the both of them. Folken caught Pearce under the arms and took a breath, readying himself for flight. Hold on, we're coming... but to do what?

Folken didn't have a Plan C.

* * *

Dallet stared at the large machine in front of him. Currents of blue energy sparked from a ball of dark metal about the size of a card table, through a rotating band of metal that seemed to hover above it into a larger sphere. Dallet's right hand clutched the pommel of his sword, though he didn't know what the hell a sword could do against an explosion. The thing was probably overloading. They needed to get out of here. Yesterday. "Hey, Hit–"

"It has begun."

A man-sized orb of light shimmered next to the Mystic Moon Witch, and Dallet's words caught in his throat. What now? Hitomi looked ready to leap into Dallet's arms and scream "Save me, fair prince." So, he figured it wasn't her doing. Gatty looked ready to shit his pants, but he'd looked like that earlier too, so Dallet didn't think it was him either. Lord Dilandau was going to owe Dallet big for volunteering him for this.

The lights faded, leaving a man with a cascade of white hair down his back and a dark cloak in its place. The man turned to face them and Dallet bit his lip on a giggle. The man was tall, and paler than Lord Dilandau, with long, gnarled fingers, hollow blue eyes, and a beard longer than the hair on Schezar's head, but that–that wasn't what was funny.

Dallet choked in a yelp as Gatty kicked his foot. "Stop it."

"Who are you?" Hitomi asked the man, and Dallet couldn't understand how she was speaking to a man with– he had to turn away– pin curls, wearing such a straight face. Tears rolled down his cheeks. The curls only sprouted from certain locations in his hair and beard, making Dallet wonder if they were freaks of nature or intentional. Did the man sleep in rollers, pins, or wake up to use a hot iron in the morning?

"Watch with me, young lady. Watch the Zone of Absolute Fortune," the man spoke. His voice was familiar.

"You're..." Hitomi frowned.

The Emperor, Dallet finished. The man looked...different...clothed. It was hard to notice Dornkirk's interesting hairstyle when Dallet was trying not to vomit at Dornkirk's unsightly body.

"The Zone of Absolute Fortune?" Hitomi asked.

"Yes. The alteration of fate brought about by the ultimate activation of the Fate Alteration Engine. It will grant everyone their wishes, creating perfect happiness."

Dallet frowned. It would grant everyone's wishes? Even his? He turned around again, focusing on Hitomi rather than Dornkirk. If he looked at her, he might not think about the curls and have to turn around again. He felt Gatty brush against his shoulder and he glanced over at his comrade. Gatty was pale in the blue light of the machine and his eyes glittered when they met Dallet's. Gatty didn't seem to like where this talk was headed.

Dallet's hand rested on the pommel of his sword again.

"The true value of the Atlantis Machine is now being put to test."

The Atlantis Machine? Could he sound less like one of those weird books Lord Dilandau read? But then again, it wasn't like Fate Alteration Engine was much better.

"You're joking," Hitomi said.

If the Emperor was joking, he certainly looked like a clown, but he wasn't. No one let themselves be seen and killed butt-naked in front of an audience for the sake of a bad joke. That was some kind of sacrifice.

"Granting everyone their wishes is what destroyed Atlantis!" Hitomi said.

Gatty let out a breath and Dallet's hand tightened on his sword handle. Gatty was right, this chat was headed no where good...but what could they do to stop it? Pearce had lopped off this guy's head and he was still running at the mouth about Fate.

Wait.

Dallet took a step back with a gulp. This man sacrificed himself; Dallet saw his head fall from his neck, yet he was here. He was...a ghost. They were standing around listening to a freakin' ghost!

'Lord Dilandau, you're so lucky I like you.'

"The–the allies are still fighting each other!" Hitomi said after a few moments of silence. The girl and the ghost were looking at the glowing machine as if watching a play. Was the girl having a vision and sharing it with her undead acquaintance? If those two were having a moment, Dallet would gladly take Gatty and leave. Lord Folken could get them out of there, right? Shit... where was Lord Folken?

"People's emotions make it so."

Other way out, where are you? Dallet looked up, hoping to see Lord Folken, wings and all, coming back down with Pearce, the bad ass. Pearce was officially upgraded from creepy bastard. Dallet hoped they weren't lost in all the fog the machine was creating. He'd heard a few things banging around above, and he pictured Folken and Pearce smacking into things as they descended with a smirk. Folken should have brought goggles instead of that sword. Folken was probably moving slow as molasses to ensure he and Pearce didn't meet their Fate in the form of pancakes.

"The Zone of Absolute Fortune, which has granted everyone their wishes, has merely made the fighting worse. Can't these people let go of this destiny war?"

Didn't you pretty much start the destiny war? Dallet gazed at Pincurl. Dallet couldn't keep calling him ghost and undead, but Dornkirk and Emperor seemed somewhat inappropriate now. There was something less imposing about the man now that he was vapor. Dallet's brow wrinkled. Was he vapor? He couldn't see through him. Ai, an opaque ghost.

"Do they actually wish for war?"

Dallet knew of people back in his Zaibach days that wished for war. Anwar had wished for war, and so had Lord Dilandau... when he'd been weird. Dallet would have sworn Lord Dilandau was possessed more than half a year ago. Maybe that spirit was possessing the people Pincurl was raving about, the people who were fighting just to be fighting.

"Hitomi, can you see Palas? Is the castle untouched still?" Gatty sounded anxious.

"I can't see the castle. I only see battlefields soaked in blood. It's horrible. Please, please stop the machine! Make the fighting stop!" Hitomi clasped her hands together, begging Pincurl, who simply stood with his head back, gazing up at the bright blue orb of destiny... or blue shit, but Dallet figured Pincurl would call it destiny.

"Impossible, once set in motion, Fate cannot be stopped. If it is destruction that people wish, we can but accept it."

Easy for you to say, Mr Spook. You're already dead. Geez. Dallet took a deep breath and looked from Pincurl leaning on a cane Dallet hadn't noticed before, to Hitomi and Gatty. Gatty was looking back at him. Dallet let go of his sword. He had never met a machine that couldn't be turned off. They either had off switches or plugs he could pull. Either way, once a machine was separated from its source of power it no longer worked. Dallet merely had to find its power source.

'People's emotions make it so.'

Dallet blinked. The machine granted everyone's wishes. The machine had activated after Pincurl's death, which was like a sacrifice, one that might have been needed to flip the on switch. Dallet felt the wind leaving him as an invisible fist caught him in the solar plexus. The power source... 'Once set in motion Fate can't be stopped'... was one Dallet couldn't reach. It was human emotion, raw human emotion. This stupid machine was exploiting the fact that human beings were inherently selfish, hedonistic beings. It was giving everyone what they really wanted at once and creating the chaos Dallet had heard on the communication wire.

"Why are Allen and Van fighting?" Hitomi was speaking again.

Schezar and His Hindquarters were fighting? Did they know they were fighting each other? Maybe that Valeska bitch was there and had squirted more of that sticky crap on their visors.

"This is their wish."

The hell? But Van and Schezar were old chums, or rather they used to be. Miguel and Gatty had told Dallet about the argument Schezar and Van had over Lord Dilandau earlier. Schezar had stormed off in a huff, so reported Miguel, and Miguel was the master of huffs, so Dallet trusted his judgment when he said Schezar was in one.

But still– a physical fight on the battlefield? What could have been so serious?

"No stop!" Hitomi screamed. "Please stop, Van!"

"Those youths seem so happy," Pincurl said.

Dallet didn't like the way the two, Hitomi and Pincurl, stood so still. It was as if they were no longer in the room with Dallet and Gatty, but out on the field, witnessing the display. This was well beyond creepy, this was downright piss in your pants scary and Dallet really wanted to know where Lord Folken and Pearce the bad ass were. Lord Folken studied weird and Pearce ate it for brunch, then chopped off its head.

"Their wishes have been granted in the Fortune Zone."

"Stop Van!" Hitomi screamed again, her voice desperate.

Dallet squinted, trying to see what Hitomi saw in the glowing orb. He saw nothing but swirling masses of energy. He tried to make them into people. He wanted to see Van in the Escaflowne going after Schezar with everything he had, and he wanted to see Schezar attacking right back. He bet the fight was spectacular. But... but he also didn't want to see either man hurt. They both meant so much to Astoria, to Gaea, to Lord Dilandau... and maybe Van meant a little something to Dallet too, and Hitomi.

Dallet frowned at the girl. Tears brimmed in her green eyes that Dallet was sure were not at the sight of Pincurl's wig... but was she crying for Van or Schezar? Last time Dallet heard, Hitomi had dumped Schezar on his ass, but that didn't mean she wanted to see him skewered at the edge of a sword. Though, the girl had been sweet on Van too at the start of all this. If Hitomi was yelling for Van, Dallet wondered if she knew how Van felt about Lord Dilandau, and would she still be yelling like that if she did. She sounded like her heart was breaking, and it made Dallet sick. He didn't like to hear people scream, not good people anyway.

"Stop it, Van. Don't fight, Van!"

Hitomi stretched her arms out as if reaching out to grab someone as she spoke. Dallet watched her face, saw the softness of her expression, the tenderness in her eyes. Ai, this was worse than chaos, this was the legendary tenth hell Dallet liked to call: the Labyrinth. Unfortunates who found themselves lost in this maze of tangled relationships were rarely heard from again. Maybe Van should stop fighting, and let Schezar run him through. It might be less painful.

"Van." Hitomi said again, softly. The jewel around her neck was glowing and Pincurl stared at the girl as Dallet did. What was he thinking?

Pincurl ignored everyone else in the room but Hitomi, as if she was the most important person there. She believed she was, Lord Folken and Lord Dilandau said she had power. Dallet had seen her power. She'd brought them all here. Lord Folken might have been Dallet's other way home, but Hitomi would be the one to ensure that journey was safe. If Dallet knew how, he'd give himself a prize, but somehow he felt, not comfortable, but secure.

The machine was working off of people's wants, it could not be turned off, but its signal could probably be guided. If someone could take the power of a million wishes and meld them into one, this place could be saved. Basically, the people needed a general, a president, an electoral college to make an educated decision for them. Hell, they needed Lord Dilandau, but he'd chosen to stay ghost-free today, so Hitomi, with the power of Atlantis around her neck, would have to do.

Ai, his nerves. Lord Dilandau owed him big, indeed.

* * *

"Let's end this!" Van charged at the fallen purple guymelef. It was time to put Valeska to rest. This girl had killed Duke Freid, she'd tried to kill Allen, she'd tried to hurt Dilandau, and for what? She wasn't fighting for the glory of a nation, she wasn't fighting for the ideals of right and wrong. She was just fighting.

Van heard Hitomi's voice in his head. _Van, no!_

He'd hit his head quite a few times during the course of battle, and wanted to attribute his hearing things to that, but the creeping feeling in his gut and the tingle on his skin told him otherwise. Shut up, Hitomi; I'm busy.

Van brought the Escaflowne to a halt. Something dropped from the sky and landed in front of him, a guymelef. It caught his down strike and forced his sword upward. Scherazade?

"Allen?"

"Stop, Van. Put away your sword." Allen's voice was strained. Was he injured? Maybe something had damaged his eyes and he couldn't see. Allen couldn't possibly know that he was protecting Valeska. Van wondered at the number of people who had sacrificed themselves to save this crazy woman. He thought of the blue alseid he'd skewered only moments before that had thrown itself between Valeska and Escaflowne's sword.

"This woman's obsessed with fighting! By killing her, I'll remove the source of evil on Gaea by the roots!"

"You're wrong! You're never going to end people's hatred by striking down Valeska."

Van growled low in his throat. Was Allen preaching to him, after that spat in the hallway they'd had this morning? After Allen had betrayed his trust? Allen was lucky Van was still speaking to him, and now Allen had the nerve to tell Van he was wrong to kill someone who fought under the banner of the people who would destroy Gaea? Van pulled his sword back and swung it at Allen. Metal clashed as Allen caught the blow and returned it.

"Allen, move."

"You'll have to go through me," Allens said.

Van's eyes widened and a bead of sweat rolled from the center of his forehead down the bridge of his nose. What was wrong with Allen today?

"Because... Valeska's my sister!"

Van tossed his head back and laughed out loud. His sister? "Allen, you truly have gone crazy. Just this morning Dilandau was your brother. Did you trade him in for this bitch, or something? I'm not sure he'd appreciate that."

"Van... they're twins! Dilandau and Valeska are twins!"

Van shook his head. Poor sick bastard. Van swung at Allen again and Allen, once again, caught and returned the blow.

"All of Valeska's, Celena's, crimes are my crimes, even if she was controlled by Zaibach's magic. Don't hold back. Swing at me! Face me, Van Fanel. I, Allen Schezar, Knight of Caeli, will fight you to the best of my ability!"

Van gritted his teeth as Allen came at him. He was serious. Allen was seriously going to fight him for Valeska's life. Van had no choice; he had to fight him.

The dance began, Allen taking lead and Van was forced to follow, but not for long. Steel sung through the air, and sparks dripped from crossing blades. Blue and red capes swirled around the massive bodies of the melefs, at times obscuring Van's vision and almost making him miss one of Allen's strikes.

"You've gotten surprisingly better. I'm glad Van!" Allen shouted, jabbing his sword toward Van's middle. Van jumped back and brought his sword down to go beneath Allen's blade and knock it upward and back. If he used enough strength, he could send it spiraling from Allen's hand. Without a sword, Allen would be powerless against Van.

Allen moved back, his wrist rolling with Van's blow to keep a firm grip on Scherazade's sword. Allen was good. How could he control that guymelef so well without merging with it?

"You're good. I knew you would be Allen," Van said, as they spun and whirled, delivering and receiving hits. If Van miscalculated any of Allen's moves, he'd be dead.

"Well, Van, what a fine swordsman you've become. You remind me of Balgus!" Allen rushed at him, thrusting forward. Van, again, had to dodge. Allen had taken him off guard with that comment. Van didn't like being reminded of the dead. Why was Allen teasing him, reminding him of...of Valeska and Dilandau when they'd fought? They'd spoken so easily, trading clever insults and making their deadly display of swordsmanship seem like a skirmish on the playground.

Van wished he could be so graceful in battle. As it was, Allen was throwing him off. I want to beat him! Van jumped as Allen slashed at his feet. I will defeat him!

There, Allen was distracted. Scherazade stopped moving, its head half turning toward something else on the field. Your opponent is me, Allen, Van wanted to shout. "Allen!" Van raised his sword high and brought it down as he lunged toward Scherazade. This was the end. He was going to win.

"Van no!"

Van jumped in his chair. Hitomi wasn't just a voice in his head now; she was a presence. The Escaflowne faded away and Van hovered in a gray, airy void.

"Stop it, Van! Don't fight, Van!" A soft, warm arm was over his, holding it. Van looked to see Hitomi, her feathery bangs floating about her face. She pulled his arm to her chest. "It's all the fault of Emperor Dornkirk's machine."

"Dornkirk?" What did he have to do with Van finishing Allen off and proving to everyone that Van was the better man? Allen would never try to take anything from him again.

"Yes, and the bad fate won't stop," Hitomi continued to babble. Van wanted to snatch his arm back.

Hitomi must have read that on his face, because she changed her tone. She stopped raving and started talking. "If we don't do something, Gaea will end up like Atlantis."

Atlantis had destroyed itself. Van swallowed. Gaea could really end up like that, because of a contraption of Zaibach's emperor? Van looked into Hitomi's eyes for falsehoods, for hysterics, and found none. He, instead, felt power trickling from her, the same power he felt when she did card readings or used her pendant. This was real.

"All right. So, I'll settle things with Allen, and then I'll kill Dornkirk."

"No! You don't have to fight, Van."

"I'll end this war! I'll avenge my country, and then, I'll save you." He'd dragged Hitomi into this after all. The least he could do was see her home for good. For her to be contacting him like this with such information meant she must be with Dornkirk somewhere. Van could find her; he knew he could.

"Van, stop it. Those emotions are causing the fighting."

"I'm fighting to protect you, and people like you."

"Nobody asked you to."

Like hell they didn't.

"Don't fight. There's no reason for you to fight Allen..."

Van tried to pull his arm away. "I get it! You're just worried about Allen!"

"No, Van, why don't you understand what I'm saying? I worry about you so much. I care about you so much."

Van didn't want to hear anymore. He felt himself drifting away from Hitomi, back to the fight, back to where he wanted to be. He was in the Escaflowne, watching Scherazade fall from a direct blow to the face. Escaflowne's sword dented the grill of Scherazade's helmet. Scherazade hit the ground with a terrible crash that made Van cringe. Oh no.

Allen? Van thought of Allen, the beautiful knight that had given him refuge in his castle and had come to Van's rescue when Van had been captured by Zaibach. Allen had fenced with him when Van needed an opponent and tried to be the big brother Van couldn't let Folken be, wouldn't let Folken be.

Folken. Van thought of his brother. Where was Folken now? Was he at the castle looking after Dilandau? Folken was a good brother to Dilandau, one Van wished he had. Only Van had Allen, who now wanted to be a good brother to Dilandau too. Were they trading? Was Dilandau taking Allen and Van was to take Folken back, or was Dilandau getting two brothers, because Van felt he was too good for the ones he had? Van shunned Folken and he'd been trying to hurt Allen.

What was wrong with him? Was it Dornkirk's machine like Hitomi said?

Van watched Scherazade's hatch open and Allen pop out like nothing had happened, like he hadn't just been fighting Van to the death. He ran across the body of the melef and jumped onto the rocky terrain. Allen was moving toward something, or someone. Van blinked at a lean figure dressed in black and purple armor. If he didn't know better, he would have thought it was Dilandau standing there, but when he squinted he saw that the hair was blond, like Allen's, and curly. She stood like Dilandau though, and tilted her head like him. She even placed her hand on one hip and leaned back to observe people like Dilandau did on occasion. She stared at Allen, looking him up and down, and when the man tried to hug her, she punched him in the chest. Allen seemed dumbfounded, then offended. The girl seemed amused.

What the hell? Was that Valeska or maybe it was Celena, Allen's sister, like he'd said? She looked like Allen, she looked like Dilandau. Allen looked like Dilandau. Van's head hurt; he wished he had a lap to lay it in, like he had when he was younger. He remembered running through fields in Fanelia and playing in the woods. He remembered hiding, giggling because he knew he would be found. Folken always found him and tossed him up into the arm. They would talk by the stream and when Van fell asleep, it was always with his head in Folken's lap as his big brother hummed a Fanelian folk song and finger combed his hair.

Allen and Celena were hugging, or doing something close to it. The girl looked stiff and uncomfortable, but she ruffled Allen's hair afterward and then ruffled her own. They were laughing about something.

Van wanted to smile for them. Brother and sister united. Van wanted to see Folken now. It was absurd. He was in the middle of battle. A war was raging around him, and all he could think about was Folken tossing him in the air and catching him. Folken reading him stories. Folken pretending not to see Van as he snuck out of his lessons to play with Merle.

What was happening? Van felt light. He could hear Hitomi calling for him to come back, she had something to tell him. Hitomi... Hitomi was with the Emperor, the Emperor had the machine that was causing this. Hitomi needed Van's help to stop it. She had the power, but she needed Van or she wouldn't have called to him.

He felt the Escaflowne transforming, before he'd even decided he wanted it to. It shifted into dragon form, and Van held the reigns as it took flight. He looked down to see Allen and Celena looking up at him, Celena pointing and Allen waving.

Van would stop Dornkirk's machine, end this chaos, and... and protect people like Allen and Celena...and maybe Dilandau too... that held family dear. He'd protect little brothers who'd lost their big brothers, but hoped to find them again.

"An agitated heart calls the dragon near. Hate and fear create conflict." Van nodded to himself, trying to understand what Hitomi had been telling him. It would help for when they met face to face. Escaflowne bucked and Van nearly toppled off. He gripped the reigns. He saw a glimmer of Hitomi's face and shut his eyes at the emotion that came with it. Love, her love, aimed at him.

Wings sprouted from his back, ripping his shirt to red ribbons. Van stood straight, releasing the reigns. He didn't need them now. He could fly on his own. He leapt from Escaflowne's back, letting the dragon fall without a rider. He flew forward, faster than he'd ever flown before. It was hard to breathe with so much wind whipping into his face. Van crossed into an unknown land, the sky was dark and the yellow lights of the city seemed to pollute the air. The buildings were tall and slender, many square windows glowing against the darkness of metal walls. Blue lightning struck in multiple places, fiery blue tendrils licking silver streets. A golden fortress sat in the heart of the city, a green light erupting from its middle.

That was where the Emperor was. Van flew toward it, seeing images of Hitomi smiling and waving him on. All right, here goes. Van dove down the shaft emitting the light, shutting his eyes against the bright glow and not slowing his descent. He felt as if he were fighting against something to enter the building, fighting against Fate perhaps. He hurtled downward.

"Hitomi!" She was here; he knew she was here.

"Van!"

There. Van could see Hitomi standing with someone, several people actually, at the end of the tunnel, but his vision was distorted. Was he looking through glass? As Van approached, he realized that he was and braced himself for impact. He crashed through the glass wall, closing his eyes to keep shards from damaging them.

"Van!" Hitomi stood with her arms open wide and Van let himself fall into them. He hugged the girl, his annoying friend from the Mystic Moon. He set his feet on the ground and dropped his face into her hair, inhaling its scent. Lemon, not roses. He laughed, recalling his confusion about what he felt for Hitomi and Dilandau months before. It was so clear now, he didn't know how he ever could have been so stupid.

Hitomi grinned at him as he pulled away. "Van, Van, I love you."

Van blinked at the sparkle in her eyes and the blush in her cheeks. Van would have turned somersaults if Hitomi had said this a long time ago, before Allen, before Dilandau. He smiled at her and took her hand, kissing it gently then shaking his head at her. I'm sorry, he mouthed.

Tears fells from Hitomi's eyes.

"Van?"

Van looked past Hitomi to the other people he noticed near her. Dallet and Gatty stood side by side, Dallet with a hand over his mouth and shaking shoulders and Gatty with his mouth agape. Folken's strange friend had his arms folded over his chest, studying Van coolly, and Folken... Folken was shirtless, his wings folded neatly behind his back. He was the one that had said his name.

Van felt his eyes watering. Folken's usually spiked hair was damp and smoothed over his forehead, like he used to wear it when he was younger, when they were younger. "Folken." Van let go of Hitomi's hand and moved to his brother, wings and white feathers trailing behind him.

Folken's eyes were warm and Van wondered what his own eyes were like. Did he look as kind or compassionate, was he crying? It felt like he was crying. He threw his arms around Folken, burying his face in his brother's warm chest and ignoring the fact that only one of the arms that closed around him was warm and soft. This felt good. This was right.

This was for the people who held families dear and for little brothers who'd lost their big brothers...and found them again. "I forgive you, Folken," Van said as an answer to Folken's whispers.

Folken was saying, "I'm sorry, Van. I'm so sorry."

It was so warm. Van felt his hair ruffling. Wind was rising from the floor, lifting him up. Folken rose with him. What now? He kept his arms around Folken; he wouldn't let go. Nothing could make him let go just yet, not an evil Emperor, not blue lightning, not...Fate. Like Dilandau had told Death to kiss his ass, Van was telling Fate to do the same.

"All right, that's it! I've had it. If I sprout wings too, I quit!"

"Dallet, I swear I can't take you anywhere!"

Van opened his eyes to see Gatty, Dallet, Hitomi and Pearce all floating around he and Folken in a circle. They were rising to the ceiling in a wave of blue mist. Van didn't know if this was a good thing, but it didn't feel bad. He shut his eyes again, knowing Folken would keep his open and look out for Van like he used to.

"What is this? Does this love they all have for each other surpass even that fate of war borne by man?"

Someone was speaking, the voice unfamiliar.

"But can this single moment last forever? This moment created by two easily swayed human hearts?"

"Is Pincurl gonna talk the whole time we're floating out of here?" Dallet pondered.

Gatty's laugh and the brush of Folken's wings were the last things Van was aware of before his awareness faded.

* * *

"It's over all ready? How can it be over?"

Allen sat with his knees pulled to his chest watching his dear little sister throw a mini-tantrum. She stomped around in a circle, swinging a long sword and howling at the sky about the Great War being over before she'd made a footprint in it using her own name.

"Not only will I be written down in the books as a villain, but I'll be a lousy villain! Do I have any wins on record, no! And when I can play the part of a hero, it's over. And do you know what the worst part about this is?"

Celena whirled around, blond curls falling in her eyes as she glared at Allen. Oh, was she finally talking to him now?

"What?"

"There's this dipshit out there that I was supposed to kill. I was looking for him and never found him. Someone must have gotten him before me. You don't think it was Dilandau, do you? The guy had beef with him too."

Allen raised a brow. Celena hadn't taken a breath since she'd changed back, regained her memory, or whichever. It seemed that Valeska had not been another alter ego, but Celena with a few key memories missing. Celena huffed about being tricked, about wanting to storm Zaibach and slay sorcerers. Allen was with her on that idea, but not so soon after getting her back, after getting his family back.

Allen rose and reached out to catch Celena's shoulder before she could start in on another tirade. "Celena, Dilandau didn't fight today."

Celena shrugged Allen's hand off and pulled her shoulder-length curls off her neck with one hand. "Dilan didn't fight? Are you sure? What's wrong with him? He sick? He'd have to be crazy not to– " Celena trailed off, blue eyes losing their manic glaze. Allen almost sighed in relief that Celena seemed to have a sane side to her too. He'd been worried.

"Len, he's not sick or hurt is he?"

Allen smiled. He didn't understand how the bond between Celena and Dilandau worked, he'd never understood, but now he wanted to. Allen reached out to smooth a curl over Celena's forehead in an attempt to make her look more feminine. She was such a pretty girl. Armor didn't suit her at all, but Allen was sure he'd have to fight her to get her to take it off.

Was he ever in for it.

Celena blew the curl off her face. "Len?"

"He's not been well, Celena, but he's going to get better, especially after he sees you." Allen watched the corners of Celena's mouth tremble.

"He's not sick because of me, is he? I didn't know if he could make it on his own, but–but you said he was all right now."

Allen nodded. "Yes, yes, he's all right now."

Celena swiftly sheathed her sword. "Rip one of those flow-y things off your vest, so I can tie my hair back. I want to see my little brother, now."

Allen raised both brows, but obeyed, severing a loose flap from his overcoat and handing it to his sister. As she worked at pulling her back and tying a knot, Celena squinted up at him.

"So, now you finally believe that I have a little brother?"

Allen snorted, pulling a curl free to fall over her forehead again. "So, now I finally believe that I have a little brother too. Come on, you, before he gets out of bed to come after us."

Celena chuckled. "He better not. I'll beat his ass."

"I'll hold him down for you."

Celena let go of her hair, and held her arms out. "Hug me again quick, before anybody sees, Len. I never thought I'd say this, but I really missed you."

Allen wrapped his arms around his sister, squeezing for all he was worth and lifting her off the ground a few inches. "I missed you too."

They began to walk together toward the Astorian lines. Allen heard his men calling to him and he waved back, pointing at Celena and laughing. He looked to the blue sky. Van had flown off after their fight. Allen didn't know where he'd gone to, but soon after, the war had ended, and Allen had a feeling Van had something to do with it.

"Len, you crazy?"

Allen gave Celena a nudge with his hip and snickered when she stumbled. "Maybe."

Thank you, Van.

* * *

Author's Note: Well... what's the verdict? Like it? Don't Like it? Don't care either way? Any way, let me know. Please review :). Epilogue is soon to come. 


	36. Chapter 32: Part 1 of 3

Author's Note: Hey! So sorry for the long wait. I know I said this would be the epilogue, but since the whole thing ended up being over 70 pages long, I ended up dividing it into three parts that I an posting separately. I'm calling it the last chapter, and a 2 page epilogue will follow. It's all done, so no more long waits :). Thank you for sticking with me all this time; I hope you enjoy the chapter :). Everybody who has had a POV in this story has a POV in this long chapter lol.

Sniff...sniff... it's done. Severd is actually done. Well... without further sniffling from me, I present the Last Chapter: Part 1, lol

* * *

Chapter 32: Part 1

"They're back in countable pieces!"

Van opened his eyes. Folken stood in front of him with his hands on Van's shoulders and Gatty, Dallet, Pearce and Hitomi were in a circle around them. Where were they? It looked like a big cellar. The circle broke and Folken's hands left his shoulders. New people crowded around them, Shesta, Viole, Miguel, Guimel, the woman doctor and... and Dilandau. What was he doing here?

The woman doctor stood in front of Folken with her hands on her hips, glaring at him. "Well?"

"He's dead," Folken said. "Pearce killed him and Van destroyed his machine. It's over."

Van figured that Folken and the woman were together, so he expected them to kiss; he didn't expect for the woman to smack Folken over the head and turn her back to him. Folken looked bewildered; he stammered, "Ah...Marie, I'm sorry that you were worried and that I went to do something you didn't approve of."

"It's not that, you idiot," Marie grumbled. Folken looked nervous about touching her. Van watched his brother's mouth twitch as he reached out to catch Marie's arm. Marie didn't brush him off; she let Folken pull her back into his chest. He held her there, not saying anything for a long time.

"Lord Dilandau, I've decided that you're going to be dyeing our sails red and painting blue-eyed, winged, silver dragons on them. Also, the interior of our boat will have to be..."

Van frowned. The Slayers had assembled behind Van. He was in the middle of, but still on the outside of, the group. Folken, Marie and Pearce were on one side, and the Dragonslayers were on the other. He turned to see Dilandau surrounded by his friends and blinking at Dallet in confusion.

"Dallet, what are you talking about?"

"The boat Guimel and me are building, or rather I'm building. You owe me big time for having me in there talking to a damn, wig-wearing ghost. I didn't use my sword once."

"A wig-wearing ghost?" Shesta asked.

"Oh yeah, the Emperor came back as a ghost after Pearce sliced his head clean off his shoulders. Pearce is bad ass. You should have seen him, but like I was saying, he chopped off the Emperor's head and the guy came back as a ghost. He stepped out of this puff of smoke and started talking to us. You wouldn't believe his hair."

"I can't believe you're describing what we saw today like that," Gatty said, then shook his head. "No wait, I can."

"Well, how would you describe it, Gatty, or can you? Gatty looked ready to shit bricks the entire time."

"Hey, you were scared when that machine started glowing and spitting out lightning too. The ghost didn't help matters, especially when he started talking about war and the end of the world brought about by man's selfish wishes. And then she–Hitomi started humoring the crazy man and both of them went on about being able to see the battlefield from where we were. Then Van burst in out of nowhere..."

"On wings, no less. Folken's got wings too," Dallet interrupted. "Then the machine busted and we all started floating."

"Van burst in?" Dilandau asked.

"Yeah," Dallet said with a grin. He pointed at Van over Dilandau's shoulder and Van's eyes widened. Had Dilandau not noticed he was there? That wasn't a good sign when it came to the question Van had asked him earlier. Van cleared his throat and moved closer to the Slayer circle as Dilandau followed Dallet's finger. He turned, blowing silver hair out of his eyes to squint at Van.

"He came in on wings you say?" Dilandau asked, studying Van.

Van stood up straighter, trying to seem confident though he was shaking.

"Yeah," Dallet said.

"Like your brother," Dilandau said with a nod. Van let out a sigh. Dilandau wasn't bothered by him being half-Draconian. Dilandau already knew about Folken. That was yet another thing Van would thank Folken for. But now...

Dilandau moved toward him and stopped a few inches away. A pale hand reached out to stroke Van's chest, and Van looked down to see Dilandau tracing the lines of the garden on his torso. "Do you really want to make this into something that won't wash off after a few weeks?"

Van frowned. Dilandau's fingers stopped on the swing set.

"I've never done anything like this before, so it might not turn out exactly how you want, but I'm always up for a challenge. Should we set a date?"

Dilandau's eyes met Van's. They shone with mischief and a fondness that made Van smile so hard his cheeks hurt. Was Dilandau saying yes? Was he saying that he liked Van and wanted to try to have something more with him?

"Dilandau?"

Dilandau chuckled and gave Van a push with the index finger still planted in his torso. "Ah, I'm no good with romance and things like that, Van. I don't know much about it, but I know I like you, so, if you can bear with me..."

Van laughed, reaching out to pull Dilandau into a hug. The taller boy crashed into him with an 'oof' and Van squeezed him tight. He let go when Dilandau struggled against him. Dilandau pulled away from Van, a blush tinting his cheeks and Van felt sheepish. "Sorry. I've just been daydreaming about this for a while, you know? I'm excited. I–don't know much about romancing people either. I'm new to it too, so we can figure it out together. It could be fun. I used to ask Allen for advice, but he's– "

"Allen?" Dilandau's eyes were twice their usual size. "You talked to Allen about–this?"

Van nodded. Didn't Dilandau like Allen now? Allen liked Dilandau enough to call him 'brother', all in a matter of days. "He's helped me a lot, until recently. Does that bother you?"

Dilandau didn't look good. "What did he say about it recently?"

"That you're his little brother and that I had to stay away. Hey, are you ok?"

"And what did you say?"

"That he was crazy. He called you his brother, he called that crazy Valeska his sister, but... I saw him and Valeska together, before I– went to deal with the Emperor. They look alike, those two. They hugged and talked, and looked alike, but you know... when Valeska stood alone, for a moment, I thought she was you. You look like them too."

Dilandau stared at him. "You saw them, before you did whatever you did to end up where these guys were, and they were ok?"

Van nodded, trying to read the expressions warring across Dilandau's face. His eyes blinked rapidly, long lashes fluttering, color left his cheeks, but a dazzling smile gave one a dimple Van hadn't noticed before. Dilandau tossed his head back and laughed, really laughed and Van's breath caught in his throat. Gods...

This beautiful person wanted to learn about romance with Van? The Emperor's machine responded to the emotions of others. Had it heard Van's desire over everyone else's and granted him his wish, before it overloaded? There was no other way someone like Dilandau could...

Dilandau punched Van in the chest, still laughing. His eyes were wet, droplets of water caught in his lashes. He grinned at Van, biting his lower lip and Van felt something ripple in his chest, spreading from his middle to his fingers and toes. He punched Dilandau back, lightly and was still as the other boy pulled him into a hug. A fine tremor ran throughout Dilandau's body and Van frowned, rubbing Dilandau's back.

He wasn't well yet. Wasn't he supposed to be in his room?

"Aw..."

Van rolled his eyes. He'd only had eyes and ears for Dilandau for a few moments, now he was forced to acknowledge their audience. Van let go of Dilandau and Guimel took Dilandau's shoulders from behind, purring in Dilandau's ear.

"You know, milord, you're going to have to kiss him back sometime. Will you be needing lessons? I know some great kissers."

Van found himself surrounded by Slayers who wanted to slap him on the back and ruffle his hair. He also noticed Viole and Shesta keeping their distance from Dilandau, staying on one side of Van. What was that about?

"So... Lord Dilandau, you and Van should have your first date on our boat," Dallet said, "after you fix it up all nice."

"No, Lord Dilandau and Van's first date will be in a nice restaurant," Miguel said, "with classical music and..."

"No, they should do something fun. Maybe they could go..."

"Ahem!" Dilandau pushed away congratulating hands. "I have an idea. Let's go to the comm and see what's happening outside. If everything's all clear, let's go out and see if we can help with anything. I want to catch Allen and Celena..."

"I have a better idea." Dr. Marie's voice sounded over the crowd. She appeared behind Van and Dilandau. "How about we see what's happening outside, and then Dilandau goes the hell back to his room, before I embarrass him by having him manhandled there."

Dilandau's mouth opened and closed in outrage. "Marie..."

"You've been up and about long enough. Sir Allen and Celena will come to you."

Dilandau groaned and Van's heart fluttered at his pout. Van slung an arm around Dilandau's shoulders. "I'll walk you to your room after this."

Dilandau sighed, but nodded.

"And while we're walking, you can tell me the deal between you, and Allen, and Valeska who I think turned out to be Celena, who's Allen's sister, who he said was your sister, which would make him your brother, but he already said that. I'm lost, but you guys really do look a lot alike. What's going on?"

Dilandau rested some of his weight on Van.

"Lord Dilandau, you said Celena was your twin sister, now Van's saying she's Schezar's sister too? And what's this about the Valeska bitch turning out to be Celena?" Dallet asked.

"Schezar's been pretty weird. He said he was Lord Dilandau's brother? But you guys hated each other. There's no way you could be related. You haven't even known each other for a year," Gatty said.

"Van's right, they look alike." Shesta sounded thoughtful.

"They do some things alike too." Viole sounded amused.

"Lord Dilandau, tell us what's going on." Guimel was clearly annoyed.

"Now?" Dilandau looked exhausted.

"Well, maybe not now, if you're too tired, but preferably before we go gray," Guimel said.

"And sprout pin curls," Dallet uttered and Gatty snickered.

More of Dilandau's weight rested on Van's shoulders and Van shifted, then frowned as some of the weight was relieved. He glanced over to see Hitomi on the other side of Dilandau, taking one of his arms.

"I helped you down here, it would only be polite for me to help you back up."

Van stared at the girl. She was pale, but her face was soft and kind. She winked when Van caught her eye and smiled lightly. She gazed at Dilandau and nodded at Van. "I guess my 'I love you' came too late."

Van looked down at his feet briefly.

"But it's ok. I can't stay anyway, and you need someone who can be here for you."

Dilandau peered at Hitomi curiously. "What 'I love you'?"

"One that never should have been," Hitomi told him lightly. "You're not going to pass out are you?"

"No," Dilandau said crossly. "I'm just tired and people keep asking me stupid questions." Dilandau raised his voice on the last statement, catching the attention of his Slayers again.

"Well, we wouldn't ask them if you'd tell us simple shit from the start," Guimel snorted.

"Yeah, I for one would like to know what's going on with my best friend, before I hear about it in the castle gossip," Gatty said.

"Oi, Lord Dilandau's my best friend!" Viole pumped his fists.

"No, he's mine," Shesta argued.

Dilandau groaned again, and Van squeezed his shoulder. "Oh, enjoy it. You're loved."

Dilandau chuckled. "By knuckleheads. All right, everyone shut up, and I'll tell you what you want to know after we listen to the radio and someone, preferably Gatty or Folken, tells us what happened with Dornkirk. But you guys have to promise not to interrupt me until I'm done. This is a long complicated story that I'm not so sure I understand myself in a lot of places."

* * *

The Crusade. What a retarded name for a warship. Wait, it wasn't a warship, it was a leviship equipped for battle, but not solely built for the task. Celena blew curls that had escaped a makeshift ponytail out of her eyes as she stared over the railing of the 'leviship equipped for battle'. She scowled at the way Allen seemed to be handling her with kid proof gloves. If she looked over her shoulder, she knew she'd see him watching her out of the corner of his eye as he spoke to a tall dark-haired man. He had a name, but Celena had forgotten it, as she did with most things she didn't care about.

Little people and busted melefs dotted the battlefield as far as Celena could see. She stretched her hand out and shut one eye, pretending to smash the scene below with her fingers and wipe out the aftermath of a war she hadn't really fought, one in which the wrong name for her would be recorded in text books. But who cared? That name would be hated without fear. Celena didn't think she would mind being hated, so long as those that hated her knew to keep their distance.

She lowered her head and closed her eyes. Valeska had been a failure; Celena had been a failure. Grasping the last few months was hard. She remembered them vividly; she was there, but how could she have not known her family? She'd fought both Dilandau and Allen and felt nothing for them. Though, she had known something was wrong each time she touched swords with one of them.

If she could reach back in the past and slap herself, she would have. She'd been a crazy bitch. Semi-remembering stuff and freaking out when she couldn't figure out what the hell it was she was trying to remember. It had been frustrating, and now, it was all back, just like that. All it took was Jajuka yelling at her to remember. Why couldn't she have done that herself? Why did she need someone else's help for something as stupid as that?

For the same reason she'd lost to Dilandau and Van and had attacked Allen from behind, she was weak.

She chuckled to herself, feeling warm tears building behind her eyes. She kept her eyes squeezed shut. Those tears weren't getting out. Warlords didn't cry. They got stronger. They looked at what they did wrong and they learned to do it right. That was what Dilandau did, though he never really did anything wrong. It had been too damn dangerous to make mistakes when Celena had been with him. It had taken both of them to get out of some of the situations they'd been put in by their masters.

Celena always thought Dilandau was the one that wouldn't be able to make it on his own. She was the strong one, the real fighter, the mastermind behind him. He needed her. She was convinced the sorcerers let her twin brother have the body, because he was a boy, pure and simple. She was determined to prove herself through him and after they'd been separated.

It turned out to be the other way around. Dilandau was better than she was. He was smarter, stronger, and more respected. Everything she'd chewed him out over was something she'd failed at. She'd failed at being a leader and a soldier, where he excelled. The men on Len's ship walked by, pretending not to stare at her, while chatting about how the whole war would have gone to shit if Dilandau, creepy ass Folken, and their Slayers hadn't been on Astoria's side.

_Their Slayers_, Celena still thought of them as that. She'd been there when they were trained. She'd helped. She had handpicked some of them. She wondered if they noticed when she'd gone, if they missed the parts of her that shone through Dilandau. Would they recognize her in a way when she stood before them again? Would they even know she'd stood before them, or would they only see her as Dilandau's sister?

How much did they know? Dammit, she hoped Dilandau hadn't told them about her yet. She wanted to be there to defend herself. She didn't trust Dilan as far as she could throw him not to make her sound like a bitch. If he remembered her being a bitch to him.

She thought back to the last time she'd really spoken to Dilandau. He'd been lying on a table in the Madoushi's lab, looking like Death warmed over twice. Every time his chest had risen and fallen, Celena had breathed a sigh of relief. She didn't like to see him like that. It made her feel strange, protective and maybe–heaven help her–motherly. That was her little brother and he was helpless without her. She'd been so gentle with him, because he'd needed gentle. He had been so out-of-it. He hadn't known who she was. She had to introduce herself like some stranger. He'd seemed happy enough to know she was his sister, but it was a fuzzy happiness.

Did he even remember them being together, or did he just remember the girl he met in the Madoushi's lab? What was he going to expect from her, and hell, what did she expect from him? She'd never truly met him outside of herself, not under the influence of Madoushi cocktails or battle induced adrenaline.

The wind whipping against her face was loud, but not loud enough for her to miss the sound of boots approaching and stopping once they'd neared her instead of moving on. A hand ghosted her shoulder and the scent of sweat over cologne hit her.

"Hey Len."

"Hi."

She looked at her older brother. The tall man was looking out into the horizon, the sun setting his hair aglow. Celena bet women dropped their panties for him at first glance. How many nieces and nephews did she have? She hoped Allen knew she didn't do babies, and to keep them away from her.

"Thinking about Dilandau?"

"Of course I'm thinking about Dilandau," Celena said. "I'm just now realizing I've never really met him face to face, aside from that time he was drugged to the gills. He already proved he doesn't need me. What if he doesn't like me?"

Allen snorted. "Celena, he wanted to come out himself and help me get you back. If you had seen him then Celena, so thin and unsteady on his feet, demanding that he be at my side, you would know how much– "

"He likes the idea of me," Celena said. "I don't know if he remembers our time together, Allen. I don't know how much the Madoushi took from him. They wanted him to forget me, I bet."

Allen shook his head. "He remembers our house and Mama and the garden. The memories come to him as dreams, but they're there. I'm sure he'll remember more in time."

"And when he does, and then decides he doesn't like me?"

Allen frowned. "Why do you think he won't like you?"

Celena shrugged. "I wasn't the best person in the world to share space with."

Allen snorted. "Tell me something I don't know."

Celena's fist shot out, aiming for Allen's left kidney. The jerk anticipated the attack and moved.

"When you were a little girl, you always hit low. I thought it was because you were so short."

"The most painful places to hit a man are lower on the body," Celena said, gazing at Allen's crotch meaningfully. "Try me again."

Allen smirked. "I think I'm content." He moved closer to her again and leaned on the rail a bit. "Celena, don't worry about Dilandau. He'll love you regardless. I love you regardless. There are lots of things we're going to have to forgive each other for, all of us. Dilandau used to hate me and the feeling was mutual, but we grew on each other, and now that we know who we are to each other, everything's falling into place for us. I bet it'll fall into place easier for you."

Celena inched her hand close to Allen's on the rail. "Nothing's easy."

Allen's hand covered hers. "You're right, nothing is, but we'll do our best to keep anything from being too hard. We're a family now, Celena; you, Dilandau and I, are a team. I don't know what our future holds, but we're going to be together. Nothing's ever going to take you two away from me again. So, I guess what I'm saying is he's going to have to learn to love you if he already doesn't, because he's stuck with you. So, no worries Celena, all right?"

Celena laughed, turning her hand over to clutch Allen's. "That's your solution, Len? No worries?"

Allen grinned at her, long hair billowing in the wind. He looked like the teenager she remembered him as during one of his rare periods of good humor.

"You've turned into a big kid."

"Maybe because I'm getting the chance to be one. Celena, everything that was weighing me down is lifted. I've found you, I've found Dilandau, Mother's... I know Mother's at peace, and I can forgive Father. I blamed how badly my life turned out on him, but now it's not so bad after all. I've got my siblings together and we're going to do what Mother would have wanted."

"Plant roses?"

"Take care of each other." Allen rolled his eyes at her.

Celena stuck her tongue out at him. Then looked back out at the horizon. She could see a castle in the distance. "How do you know Mother's at peace?"

Mother was dead. She'd died a long time ago, Celena knew. She'd died thinking she'd lost Celena–and Dilandau– Mother had known Dilandau was there. Celena knew she did.

"Dilandau told me."

"Dilan? But how..."

"Why don't you ask him, when you see him? Now, let's go inside the cabin and sit. Kyo's piloting, and you do not want to be standing when he makes a landing."

"Noted."

* * *

Bone marrow and blood looked very similar when suspended over his head in a clear bag. Dilandau lay on his back with his arms folded over his chest, staring at the thick liquid dangling from the IV pole. Marie had decided to start the transplant once Dilandau was situated in his room again. She told him, as she exchanged a bag of clear preparative medication with one full of red marrow, that some bone marrow was yellow, but that all bone marrow started off red at birth. As people grew, fat accumulated in the body and turned half the marrow yellow.

Disgusting.

Certain places in the body held the different colored marrows, red in flat bones, yellow in long bones. Dilandau was glad Marie had pulled the marrow from Allen's hip. He didn't know if he could watch yellow crap drizzling into his system. Though, he hadn't appreciated Dallet's comment about being full of butt juice. Dallet had gotten quite bold since his spiritual encounter. Something was going to have to be done about that. Dilandau would have to talk with Viole.

Dilandau heard the curtain shielding the door being drawn over the beeping of the heart monitor Marie and Folken and dragged in from the lab, but didn't bother to sit up. He'd been off the preparative drugs for nearly two hours and he still felt sick. He thought it would be out of his system by now, but he'd thrown up on Van only a half hour ago, so him lying down was probably in the best interest of his company.

Gah. He'd thrown up on Van. How embarrassing, but Van was a good man. He had rubbed Dilandau's back, changed shirts, went and wet a towel to clean Dilandau up, and asked if Dilandau felt better. Then Folken had come in and kicked Van out, so Dilandau could take a nap.

A nap, like Dilandau was really going to take a nap while waiting for Allen and Celena to return. _Watch me sleep with my eyes open, Folken._

"How are you feeling?"

Folken stood over him, holding a blue bowl. The porcelain sweated and a cold drop of water hit one of Dilandau's arms, wetting his sleeve.

"Like I'll throw up, if I try to sit up. Am I supposed to feel this nauseous?"

"Side effects from the preparative treatment can last up to two weeks, Dilandau. If you wouldn't have moved around so much today, it wouldn't be this bad. You'll be all right." Folken set the bowl down, and reached over to tap the IV bag. The small amount of fluid left in the bag sloshed around. Dilandau expected Folken to produce another bag of marrow from the bowl, but instead, he checked Dilandau's vitals, then unbuttoned Dilandau's pajama shirt.

"Are you ready to stop the drip?"

Dilandau raised his brows. "Already?"

Folken nodded. "It's a short procedure."

Much shorter than a blood transfusion. Dilandau had fallen asleep during that, which was good. Marie removed the needle while he was comatose. Dilandau's eyes widened. "Hey, you're not thinking about doing this yourself are you? Where's Marie?"

Folken scowled. "Dilandau, I am perfectly capable of..."

"Yeah, like you were perfectly capable of inserting that IV port?" The IV port disaster had left Folken baffled and Dilandau short a half pint of blood. Well, maybe not quite a half pint, but a lot of blood had gushed out. Although, it might have been worth it to see Red Witch all worked up. She'd called Folken names Dilandau hadn't heard before and threw him out of the lab. Marie had referred to Folken as "Big Stupid" for a week.

Folken flushed at Dilandau's mention of the port and bristled. "You were squirming and making me nervous. And, for your information, unhooking a line from a catheter is much easier than that. Now, hold still."

Dilandau went limp as the man fumbled with the small contraption embedded in his chest. He heard something click and then felt a slight tug as the line was removed.

"See there. Easy." Folken cleaned the catheter and the skin around it with antiseptic and a white cloth he pulled from the bowl. Then, he slipped the monitor off his finger. The machine beside them wailed for a moment, before Folken pulled its plug. "Now, I'll get this IV and monitor out of the way, so your guests won't trip over them."

Dilandau buttoned his shirt. "Guests?"

Folken smiled. "I'll tell them they can come in now. They followed me to the door, and I asked them to wait outside while I did this."

Dilandau's skin tingled as he sensed a familiar aura. "F–Folken, is it them?" Dilandau tried to sit up, but stopped mid-attempt at black and red swirls of vertigo. _Please don't puke_. His stomach should be empty; it had to be after all the crap he'd spat up on Van. Poor guy. Dilandau hoped the maids could get the stains out of his shirt; it looked new.

Folken placed a hand behind his back, undoubtedly thinking Dilandau needed help sitting up.

"No, no, no. Too fast. Too fast."

Folken stopped, holding Dilandau in a partially upright position. Dilandau took a few deep breaths. He tasted something warm and sour at the back of his throat.

_This is more disgusting than yellow marrow_.

Dilandau felt a depression on the bed and the warmth of Folken's body at his side. Dilandau leaned on the man, resting against his chest. Folken wore one of the new cloaks Dilandau had bought for him. The royal purple cloth was soft and smelled of sterile soap and vanilla perfume. Dilandau smirked.

"Marie's been in this cloak, has she?"

Folken cleared his throat and ruffled Dilandau's hair. "I left it in her room and she put it in her closet. Everything smells like perfume in there."

"You've disrobed in Marie's room?"

Folken grunted. "Have you disrobed in Van's room?"

Dilandau laughed. "Many times, and I've left there smelling like him too. I borrowed his shower and used his soap after all. It was all perfectly innocent, Folken. What are you insinuating passes between your brother and me?"

Folken coughed and shifted, hand leaving Dilandau's hair and resting on his back. "Nothing really. Neither one of you are ready for anything..."

"...that you and Marie are doing?"

"What me and Marie do behind closed doors..."

"You guys are intimate?"

If Dilandau could see Folken's face right then, he would bet it was red. It was so funny to think of Folken blushing. Folken was in love. Dilandau snaked an arm around Folken, the man he thought of as a big brother. The man who had a real little brother Dilandau was now involved with. Was that weird for Folken?

Van said it was weird for Allen, Dilandau's real big brother. Dilandau frowned. He wouldn't trade Folken for the world, but he actually had someone who had to love him unconditionally now. Would his relationship with Folken have to change because of it?

"Nothing changes between us, Dilandau."

Dilandau started. Had Folken hidden telepathy along with his wings?

"Our family is just a bit bigger, that's all. Someone told me that it isn't unheard of for people to have more than one sibling."

"And how do you feel about me dating your other little brother? Isn't that kind of gross?"

Dilandau yelped. Folken freakin' pinched him! "I try not to think of it that way, Dilandau."

"How do you think about it?" If both Folken and Allen disapproved of the relationship, wouldn't pursuing it be a bad idea after all? Dilandau didn't know if he could take back what he said to Van, because of someone else's feelings, but if Folken and Allen were uncomfortable with it, he didn't know. One side of him screamed, Screw them all, and the other side said, Family first. But... Van was family according to Folken.

Folken sighed. "I think about it as both you and Van being happy, and that makes me happy. It helps that I know and trust you both, so I don't have to worry about my younger siblings bringing someone home I hate."

Dilandau blinked at the simplicity of Folken's answer. In the face of so much complication, one of the most complex people Dilandau knew was being carefree. He chuckled. Marie was really rubbing off on Folken. "You sure that's all you think?"

"I'm sure, Dilandau. You should worry more about what Allen thinks," Folken said. "From what I've heard, he's not happy."

Dilandau groaned and pulled his face from Folken's cloak to look up at him. Who knew, Allen might surprise him as Folken had, but with his nerves in mind, "I don't think I'll be talking about that with him today. Folken, how do they look?"

"How do they look?"

"Bubbly and blond? Serious and stately? Nervous as hell?"

Folken glanced at him. "They look clean. I believe they showered before they came up. I'll tell them to come in, and you can judge the rest for yourself."

Dilandau gripped Folken. Suddenly, he didn't want the man to leave. It was funny how he had been ready to rush out and meet Celena and Allen on the battlefield a couple of hours earlier, but now he was ready to sink into the mattress. What was it? Did he not want Celena to see him this way? What if she didn't like him?

"Folken, what if Celena doesn't like me?"

"What's not to like?" Folken asked.

Dilandau bit his lip. Well, Allen hadn't liked him at first, but Dilandau guessed that didn't count. They'd been enemies then, and Dilandau did burn down his castle for the hell of it. "Stay?"

Folken's smile was light and his eyes were warm. He shook his head. "This is your moment. Swallow your nerves and please don't throw up on your guests. Has the dizzy spell passed yet?"

Dilandau glared at Folken and the man took it as a yes. Next thing Dilandau knew, Folken had him sitting completely upright with pillows propped behind his back. Dilandau grimaced as organs resettled themselves. "I really feel like shit, Folken. Are you sure...?"

"We warned you to take it easy," Folken said. "There's no fever, and no other signs of infection; you're fine."

Dilandau growled as the man took his pole and wheeled it out of the room, waving at him before he passed through the curtain. Bastard.

The curtain flipped open again and Allen stepped in. His hair looked damp and was pulled back in a high ponytail. He turned and reached back through the curtain to grab something. "Stop being ridiculous! He won't–as you say hate your guts for trashing a dumpy village."

Dilandau raised a brow. Trashing a dumpy village? Dallet's village? Did Celena remember her time as Valeska?

Allen was really struggling. He grunted and was pulled back through the curtain. Celena was talking now, her voice made him tense, saying something Dilandau couldn't make out. Miniature crashes told of things being batted off the sterilizing stations by flailing limbs.

Dilandau tapped his knees. Celena was afraid to come in and see Dilandau because she thought he'd hate her?

He giggled, giddiness laced his nausea. He and Celena were afraid of the same thing. How stupid were they? Dilandau steeled himself. He was getting up to help Allen, even if he had to take the basin Marie had put on the floor by the bed with him to throw up in. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and put his feet on the floor.

The room inverted slightly. Not letting his eye cross, Dilandau made his way to the curtain. _How to go about this?_ He wondered. Marie and Folken had relaxed the rules about people wearing smocks and masks when they entered, so long as they washed their hands and faces before coming in and wore gloves. Dilandau was the one restricted to wearing masks, gloves, and robes if he left the boundary of the curtain. Should he gown up before helping Allen?

The curtain bulged and Allen's backside came through. Dilandau grinned and tapped his shoulder. Allen gasped and nearly fell backward into Dilandau as he let go of what he was pulling.

"Dilandau, what are you doing? Get back in bed!" Allen advanced on Dilandau, whose eyes widened. Allen grabbed at him, looking ready to sweep Dilandau up in his arms.

"I was just..."

"Dilandau's out of bed? That little..."

The rungs screeched across the curtain rod as the veil was thrown open. Celena stood there dressed in one of Allen's shirts and a pair of ill-fitted slacks. Her blue eyes blazed and her hair, wet like Allen's, was a messy tornado of ringlets. Her face was heart-shaped and her lips were semi-full. She was the beautiful young woman Dilandau had seen that day in the Madoushi's lab, the one that had been so sweet and soft-spoken, on steroids. The features were the same, but the expression and the posture were alien. This girl's stance and aura, while familiar, were those of a fighter, someone he identified with.

This was the real Celena. That other person he'd met had been an act.

"Celena." Dilandau fended off Allen's hands as the man tried to pick him up.

"Dilandau."

Celena came to stand in front him, faces inches apart. They were the same height, eyes level with one another's. They stood alike and wore matching calculating expressions. "You fight like shit," Dilandau said.

"You look like shit," Celena retorted.

They scowled and folded their arms over their chests, challenging the other to blink first.

"Celena? Dilandau?" Allen sounded anxious.

Celena's brow twitched and Dilandau bit the side of his lip. Celena laughed first and pulled him into a hug that rivaled the one Van had given him earlier. Why did everyone want to knock the wind of out him today? He ignored the pain and wrapped his arms around her too, resting his chin on her shoulder. Wet curls brushed his cheek and loose pins in her borrowed garments scratched at his arms. She was thin and lightly muscled; her body was cool and smelled clean.

"You're so damn scrawny. What the hell have you been doing to yourself?" Celena murmured in his ear. "It looks like you need me to take care of you after all."

"Not fighting like an amateur. What the hell Celena? I might have recognized you sooner, if you'd given me more of a challenge. Please don't tell me you trained those losers you fought with," Dilandau murmured back.

"Shut the hell up," Celena snapped. I love you.

"Kiss my ass," Dilandau purred. I love you too.

Dilandau pulled away, and Celena caught his face in her hands, light blue eyes searching and concerned. "Are you ok? Len says you've been really sick."

Dilandau nodded. "I'm ok, or I'm going to be. Though, I might not feel like it right now." His stomach gurgled. Dilandau was wrong to ever compare his life to books where predictable formulas were the key to success. In his life, kisses tasted like fish dinners and touching reunions involved name calling and bouts of vomiting. "I've gotta throw up. You guys do what you want."

Dilandau patted Celena's shoulder and turned in the direction of the bathroom. Hands squeezed his shoulders as Allen came to stand behind him. "Let me help you."

"I'll get you a glass of water or something," Celena said, sounding flustered.

Allen pushed Dilandau into the bathroom, kneeling down beside him and smoothing Dilandau's hair out of the way before he retched.

Romance, adventure, fantasy, mystery and science fiction were overrated. The Schezars were a genre of their own.

* * *

"What do you think they're talking about? They've been in there for hours."

Guimel looked at Viole. Of course he'd be the one to break the silence among the group. All six of them sat in Viole's room, Guimel in the window sill, apart from the group, while everyone else was crowded on Viole's bed.

Viole sat in the middle of the cluster with the comforter over his legs and a quilt over his shoulders. "It's gotta be really awkward. What if they're just in there staring at each other?"

"I doubt that," Gatty said. "You know how Lord Dilandau gets when he's been kept waiting. I bet he's all over them."

"This is different," Viole said. "This is–is new to him. He's got a family and a life to learn about now, all at once. He seemed excited, but scared, really scared. I wish I could be there with him, or at least had been allowed in the room until they came."

Miguel rubbed Viole's back. "Van was with him."

"Yeah, and Lord Dilandau spewed all over him." Dallet chuckled. "You should have seen him, Vi. He had pink porridge all over his fancy blue shirt and was still smiling like a lovesick chump. I probably should have gone in to check on Lord Dilandau, but Van looked so happy I didn't want to mop up any messes His Majesty might have wanted to clean."

"They're going to be funny," Shesta said. "Van and Lord Dilandau. They're going to be the most atypical couple ever. I know they are two guys in a relationship, but isn't one supposed to be a bit more... feminine... than the other?"

"You're right." Dallet scratched his head, ruffling his shaggy hair. "One's gotta be the girl, but I don't see either one of them being thrilled about that. How's it gonna work with both of them trying to open doors and throw jackets over mud puddles and shit?"

There were nervous titters and silence again.

Guimel glanced behind him out the window. It was getting dark, the sky turning peach and gold before a midnight blue settled over the land. White tents had been pitched over the courtyard, functioning as temporary first aid clinics for soldiers with mild to moderate injuries. Marie was in charge of the operations indoors for the critically injured men, and she'd gravitated between them and Lord Dilandau until she'd fully set up the transplant apparatus and made sure Folken couldn't screw anything up.

After leaving the big basement Folken kept his junk in, and hearing Lord Dilandau's... story... everyone thought it'd be best for Van to stay with him, while they talked things over. No one actually said it, though. No one wanted anyone to think that what they knew might bother them.

It didn't bother Guimel, not the part that should anyway. He didn't care about Lord Dilandau sharing a body with his sister and that he was physically made by Zaibach's magic. All that mattered was that Lord Dilandau was a real person, always had been, and when he was someone Guimel hadn't liked, it wasn't him.

Hell, everyone had sighed at that.

What bothered Guimel was... "What the hell now?"

Heads turned in his direction.

"What do you mean what now?" Gatty asked. "We wait for an hour or so, then one of goes to make sure everything's ok over there."

"We should probably go to Folken first. He's been going in to check Lord Dilandau's vitals and stuff. If two of us tag along with him, we won't look like we're being too nosy," Shesta said. "Do you want to pick who goes? Viole and I are out."

"We can play spoons. The two winners get to go," Miguel said.

"Oh hell no. I ain't playing spoons against you, Miguel. Pick another game. How about Rummy?" Dallet fished a deck of cards from his pocket. He usually carried two decks, while Guimel packed the dice and chips.

"I'm out too. The three of you can go," Guimel said, resting his cheek against the glass and staring at the broken melefs being carted toward the hangars. Still no sign of the Silvers.

"You're out?" Dallet asked. "Just a few hours ago, you didn't want to leave Lord Dilandau's side. What's wrong? You're not..."

"No!" Guimel almost jumped off the sill, ready to fight. If Dallet thought Guimel's problem had to with Lord Dilandau's background, he'd hit him. Guimel's problem had to do with... "He's going to leave us."

Before he was dying, now he was just leaving. Lord Dilandau had Allen Schezar as a brother and a twin sister he'd shared a body with. He was going to want to go off with them to wherever they were from, not hang around with homeless losers. Astoria was merely a place to stay. He'd briefly entertained thoughts of going back to his birth home... hah. Guimel's mother was probably on husband nine by now and had forgotten all about him amidst all of the other bastards she dragged around when she moved. He wasn't the oldest or youngest son, and Ma hadn't known his name half the time.

"Lord Dilandau's not going to leave anyone," said Gatty. "We've been through too much together to think that."

"Too much shit, Gatty," Guimel said. "Who wants to be around people who remind them of shit? He looks at us and remembers Zaibach and what those asshole Sorcerers did to him and his sister. He's going to remember thinking he was crazy and being sick, and... and everyone that died. Why not go with Mr. and Mrs. Perfect and be told about a past with a mother that probably baked cakes and pies and knitted scarves?"

He could be normal. From the story he told, Lord Dilandau never got to be

normal. Guimel was an ass for not wanting him to have it, for not giving Lord Dilandau his blessing. His life, up until that point, had been hell. Great guys deserved great things.

"I resent that Guimel. I'm no one's shit," Miguel said. "And I'm certain Lord Dilandau does not think of me that way."

"We're his best friends in the world," Viole said with a grin. "Remembering shit is remembering your life. Cut it all out and you don't know what's real anymore. Besides, Celena was there through the worst parts of it. If he wanted to shy away from people who made him remember bad things, he wouldn't want to see her at all."

"And then there's the fact that she's Valeska. Even if she didn't know who Lord Dilandau was and didn't stand a chance in hell, she tried to kill him," Gatty said.

"I don't know. I'm starting to think Lord Dilandau finds things like that charming. Van tried to kill him too, after all, and look where he is. So, we don't have anything to worry about." Dallet snatched a pillow from behind Viole and used it to smack Gatty in the face.

Gatty yelped and grabbed the pillow. "What the hell, Dallet?"

Dallet laughed. "It looked like a funeral in here, so I pulled a 'Viole', since sickee here can't find the energy to do it himself."

Viole stared at Dallet with wide blue eyes. "I wouldn't have done that, Dally. Lord Dilandau and Gatty are even when it comes to..."

"Y–OUCH!"

Dallet crashed to the floor, and lay flat on his back with a pillow over his face and another on his crotch. Gatty gave a superior smirk and Miguel and Shesta chuckled as Viole shook his head.

Guimel glared at them all. The somber air in the room vanished. Dallet sprang to his feet, shaking his head and wielding two pillows. "It's on now, Gatty. Choose your weapon."

Viole tossed Gatty another pillow.

"The rug can be the rink," suggested Miguel. "If both feet find themselves off the rug, you're out."

"What's allowed?" Gatty asked and Dallet raised a brow.

"Hey, this ain't a real..."

"No biting, hair-pulling, eye-poking..."

"Hey, this ain't a real..."

Guimel couldn't take anymore. Did everyone but him think this was a joke? They could blow it off and say, everything will be just like it was, but nothing ever was. Guimel knew what it was like to pushed aside in favor of the next new thing, the better thing. Each new man Ma got gave her better children, because they were the sons and daughters of the current jerk-off, and when he left, the next guy's brats took their place.

He pushed off the window sill and stalked past the bed.

"Guimel?" Viole called.

"Hey Guy, where ya going? Let's tag team. Hey, winners go see Lord Dilandau."

"That's not fair; who'll be on my team?" Gatty shouted.

Dallet stuck a hand out to catch Guimel's arm and Guimel shrugged him off. He didn't want a repeat of the hallway and knew Dallet would tackle him if he let the other boy get too close.

"I'm taking a walk," _to get the hell away from you morons_. He left the room, not looking back and slamming the door. Dallet would come out after him in a bit, so he had to run. He pressed his back against the wall next to the door he closed and shut his eyes. He felt like someone had punched a hole in his chest and held his heart is a tight fist. His neck and shoulders ached as the fist bounced inside his body when he moved, nudging his spine.

Was this worse than thinking Lord Dilandau was going to die? No. If Lord Dilandau had died, that pain would have been constant; this pain was something that would fade over time. Guimel just had to get used to it. He wanted his friends to get used to it. They should be helping each other. Guimel wanted their help now, but now they were where he was before, in denial.

A door creaked open and a young woman stepped into the hall. Blond curls brushed her shoulders and light blue eyes squinted in his direction. The hand around his heart squeezed tighter. He knew her face.

"Guimel?"

Guimel almost gasped, then stopped himself. She had to be Celena, and Celena would know his name. He shuddered. He didn't like that the bitch, ex-bitch, knew his name or that she had been there to discourage Lord Dilandau from choosing him to be a Slayer.

"Where's your hip ornament Dallet?" Celena placed a hand on her hip.

Guimel blinked. "He's... around." Just go. Just walk by her and go. She was one of the last people he wanted to talk to, the other people being Allen Schezar and Lord Dilandau.

"Well, if you two aren't jerking off together, go sit with Dilan for a minute. I... he's... I can't deal with that. I was gonna get Allen, but you're just as good. Go."

Sir Allen wasn't... Guimel was walking into the room before he could stop himself. Celena stood in the doorway, watching him pour sterilizing fluid on his hands and snapping on gloves. "Tell him I'll be back later."

She was gone. Guimel blinked. He didn't want to be there. He was supposed to be on the stairs, taking them by two's. He could be helping Princess Millerna and Lord Dryden outside or something.

He started to pull off the gloves, but stopped. Lord Dilandau was alone. He parted the curtain and stepped into the room. "Lord Dilandau?"

"H–here."

Lord Dilandau sat in bed, holding a blue basin in his lap, his head bowed over it. Guimel hurried over, climbing onto the bed and resting a hand on his back. "Hey, you ok?"

"Just wonderful. Stay back or you and Van will have matching shirts."

"My dream is to have a shirt befitting of a king," Guimel said wryly. He took Lord Dilandau's wrists, massaging them.

"What are you doing?"

"Dr. Marie said there's pressure points for nausea in your wrists."

"You asked her?" Lord Dilandau gulped.

"Yeah." Guimel shrugged. "Just in case, you know? I mean, I guess Celena doesn't know about them, so..."

Dilandau snorted. "Like I'd let Celena practice medicine on me." He raised his head. Clear magenta eyes gazed at Guimel. "You look like someone's accused you of being the father of her children again. What's wrong?"

"N–nothing," Guimel said, clearing his throat. "Feeling better?"

"For the moment." Lord Dilandau took his wrists back. "So, what is it?"

"Nothing, I said." Guimel cracked his knuckles. Lord Dilandau scowled at him. "Uh... I ran into Celena in the hall, and it was weird. She knew my name and everything."

Lord Dilandau's eyes widened and he leaned back on his hands. "Ah. Yeah, I can imagine that being weird. I was hoping to call everybody in at once and have you guys all reconnect together. That way we could have the awkward moment together."

"Yeah? Well, you can still do that for the other guys. We've been talking about it."

"I figured, since everyone ran away and left Van to get vomited on alone." Lord Dilandau fingered the basin. "You guys all seemed ok with–the other stuff– but I didn't know how you'd feel about having the two of us around, both of us knowing personal things about you. We talked about it– Celena and me, but we didn't get anywhere."

Guimel frowned. "You guys talked about us?"

Lord Dilandau sighed. "Yeah. We've been talking about you for the past hour or so. That's why Allen left. We were losing him. It seems Celena and I finish each other's sentences or stop mid-sentence because we know what the other means or is going to say. It's–different, but it's nice. It's like having my other half back, but we're still separate people, if that makes sense at all. I told her all about the cadets and she's going to pick up my slack with them for a while, and, if you guys will have her, join you on missions."

"Missions?"

"Yeah, Astoria is a mess and the armies, Astoria's and Allies alike, are in shambles. They'll need us for clean up. We're going to be busy."

Guimel's heart felt like it was going to burst. He almost reached down to grab the invisible wrist belonging to the hand in his chest. 'We're going to be busy?' Lord Dilandau was talking like he was going to hang around the castle, even after he was better. "What? You didn't think our job was over just because the war is? We've got capitals to clean and armies to rebuild. Then we've got Fanelia to think about. Folken's going to need help there."

"But... but what about Sir Allen and Celena and..."

"What about them?" Lord Dilandau felt around for the pillows piled up behind him and scooted back to rest on them.

"Doesn't Sir Allen have a house in the country or something? Aren't you guys going to live there?"

Lord Dilandau shrugged. "Yeah, there's a house and we're going to go back to it and air it out, maybe stay there on weekends, stuff like that. Allen hasn't actually lived there for a long time. His duties are closer to the capital as are mine, so it's easier for us to stay here."

Guimel had hold of the invisible wrist.

"Did you want me to move out to the country or something, Guimel? I'll let you know now, distance won't make your job any easier. It's about time we all started training again. War has made us lazy. I wonder how many miles we can still run, and I won't even discuss weight training yet."

Guimel squeezed the wrist until its hand let go, and he yanked it out of his chest. He took a deep breath without pain. Gods, it felt good.

"What are you smiling about?"

Guimel chuckled. "Nothing." Then laughed outright at another scowl from Lord Dilandau. "You don't change, Lord Dilandau. Even with all that's happened, switching bodies, almost dying, kissing boys, you're still the same guy."

Lord Dilandau lifted a brow. "You thought I'd be different for some reason?"

Guimel shrugged. "Maybe, with Celena and Allen and all. You have something you didn't have before, and... well, a guy's gotta have a break every now and again. With big brother to look after you and knowing you're going to be fine, I didn't know if you'd want to do...this anymore. I mean, who says you still have to be a soldier? If you had... had died, I wasn't going to fight anymore. I didn't think the others were either, really. So, I figured after all this and you maybe going off with Allen, there would be no more Dragonslayers."

Lord Dilandau seemed thoughtful, eyes light as he studied Guimel. "Well, I did give you all the option of not fighting under me anymore, and you voted against it. If I wasn't here, I can see you running off, but since I am... and I still feel I have work to do..."

"Then we're with you, of course," Guimel said.

"But if you want to pursue other things, I... don't have a problem with it. Zaibach is defeated, after all. I'd like to keep in touch, and know how to reach you all, though. I know it sounds childish, but I'm used to your company. You're the first friends I've ever had; you're the family I didn't have before. Folken told me..." Lord Dilandau trailed off, looking away from Guimel briefly. "Folken told me that things between he and I would stay the same. I... worried about that, but I didn't worry about us. Should I worry about us?"

Guimel started and had to choke back a giggle. They were so pitiful it was embarrassing. "No way. Oh man, you just gave back seven years of my life. I was scared of the same thing, about it all changing between us. The guys are all laughing it up and making light of it, but..."

"Not you." Lord Dilandau said. "You know, people would guess Viole or Shesta to be the sensitive ones of the group, but it's really you."

Guimel flushed. "Hey, not a chance. I'm a man's man. I don't..."

"Let it show," Lord Dilandau finished for him. "I don't blame you. Who wants to be caught crying or flinching? That's for girls."

"Exactly." Guimel puffed out his chest. "Men..."

"Brood." Lord Dilandau gave a half-grin that Guimel returned.

"I'm not sensitive though."

"Touchy?"

"No!"

"In tune with your emotions?"

"Stop already!" Guimel knew his entire face was red. He could feel it burning. He covered it with his hands. "Enough. Between you and Dallet..."

"You'll get a sizeable counseling bill?"

"Oh, that's it. You want to take this outside?"

"And have Red Witch abandoning patients on the operating table to tear me a new one? No thank you," Lord Dilandau said cheekily. He sat up, looking past Guimel. "I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"Did you...?"

Guimel turned at the sound of Celena's voice behind him. The young woman stood with her hands in the pockets of her oversized breeches. The dark blue shirt was half unbuttoned to reveal a yellow undershirt. Couldn't a woman have loaned her a dress? "No, and who would have thought you'd be squeamish."

"I'm not! I just didn't... Look, I don't know how to take care of people when they're sick, ok? Last time, Len was here."

Guimel looked between the two of them, the twins. It was obvious they favored different parents, Lord Dilandau looking more like Sir Allen, but when they argued their resemblance to each other was uncanny. The energy was the same.

"So, you left..."

"To get him, but Guimel showed up first." Celena glanced at Guimel. "I figured he'd be good at stuff like this, since he's..."

Guimel dropped his head back into his hands. Oh gods. He couldn't decide if he should laugh or cry? It seemed he was being designated the sensitive one, and everyone was agreeing. So, maybe he was a bit touchy. Every guy was entitled to brief moments of ... touchiness. That shouldn't make him the subject of group conversations, but so long as there were still group conversations, he didn't care so much. The group, his group, would never change, and even if people wanted to leave, Lord Dilandau would keep them all in touch, because Lord Dilandau was another guy that... brooded. Guimel thought of Ma and all her men and kids and wondered if, sometimes, she brooded too. He pictured her misty green eyes when a man left and how she'd ruffle his hair as he stood with her by the door. 'Thanks, kiddo,' she'd say each time. Had she stood in the doorway after he'd left too? Did she wonder where he was?

The twins continued to bicker and Guimel laughed as he realized he didn't care. When he'd left Ma behind, he'd sworn he'd never think about her again, and there he was trying to compare her to one of his good friends. Lord Dilandau would never be anything like his fickle Ma. Guimel would be as old as Dallet described his Pincurl, still listening to Viole teasing Miguel, Miguel whining about new partners, Shesta bitching, Gatty trying to be the man, Dallet gushing over tools, and Lord Dilandau and Celena arguing.

They were staring at him, Lord Dilandau and Celena, only it wasn't right to call her just 'Celena' was it?

"What the hell is so funny?" they demanded.

Guimel wiped tears from his eyes, while gazing at Celena. "What are we supposed to call you?"

* * *

Celena Schezar was the weirdest woman Dallet had ever met. She could drink more than he and Guimel combined, belch all the letters of her name in one go, and call Dallet on his shit sooner than he could start it. There was no way into that woman's breeches. Not that he'd try of course. Lord Dilandau would kill him, Sir Allen would broil his remains, and Celena would eat them.

Funny family. Castle gossip was wild with talk of the siblings' origins and latest spats. People were saying Celena and Lord Dilandau were stolen at birth by beast men and lived in the wild before found by Zaibach magicians who bewitched them. There were tales of high towers and locked rooms and Sir Allen on stallions rescuing his brother, but not being able to find his sister. The fairytales were so great that Dallet was sure the fantastic truth would seem dull in comparison. Not to mention nobody would believe it. It would be like explaining engines to people using horses and wagons.

Dallet walked along on the horizontal body of his ruined Silver, inspecting the damage, as Celena hollered at two men keeping her away from Lord Dilandau's Oreades.

"It's as much mine as it is his!"

And it was a piece of shit now, so Dallet didn't see why the guys wouldn't let her play with it. It wasn't like it could take off. Dallet had already declared that particular machine unfit for battle. He just hadn't gotten around to telling Lord Dilandau about it. It had only been a week and half since the transplant and Lord Dilandau was nowhere near one-hundred percent. Dallet didn't want to add high blood pressure to the problem. So, if Lord Dilandau didn't know about the state of his Oreades there was a good chance Celena didn't know either.

Celena. She hadn't wanted a title, and Dallet was glad. It would have been weird calling her 'Lady Celena' though Dallet was sure she'd want to be called 'sir'. Dallet used to think Refina was a tomboy, but compared to Celena Refina had been Princess Eries.

Dallet kicked at the dented hatch of his Silver and groaned in disgust. He really didn't see why Folken insisted that he inspect the units. They were all crap. The generals and their lackeys had broken Dallet's toys, and two of them weren't even alive to apologize for it. Memorial services for the soldiers lost and special tributes for Generals Aloju and Keller had been given the day before.

Dallet and Guimel hadn't gone. They'd opted to sit with Lord Dilandau and trash talk the guys that had wrecked their Alseides. Those decorated morons knew from extensive training never to take out weapons they'd never used before. Their deaths may have been unnecessary, and Lord Dilandau claimed he couldn't respect anyone who'd throw his life away for the sake of ego. The Silvers were the best pieces of equipment on the field and that greedy-ass Keller had always acted like one of them should belong to him. Dallet hoped the man had felt as powerful as he'd wanted to be when he'd died.

At the end of their trash-talking session, they'd had a moment of silence. In the end, the generals were men who'd lost their lives in battle, and it wasn't nice to badmouth the dead before their graves were cold. Their ghosts might come haunt them, and Dallet so believed in ghosts now. Then, Folken had ordered Dallet to take a look at the Silvers and that mode of thinking was all gone.

Rat bastards.

All they had now were the Blues. The old Alseides were fine and dandy, but Dallet felt more kick ass in his Silver. Also, there were only five Blues, meaning somebody was going to have to stay home when they flew out on missions, either that or borrow an Astorian Melef. The main problem with those rust buckets was that they didn't fly. Traveling would take days longer. If Astoria had the resources to spare, Dallet would suggest that they use them to revive a Silver or two.

Dallet climbed off the dead Silver, his boots thudding loudly against the stone floor. He felt like getting his hands greasy to take his mind off the murders of beautiful machinery.

Rat, bitch, bastards that sniffed ass and sucked...

"Dallet."

Dallet stopped abruptly before slamming into Celena. She stood inches from him, and Dallet looked her up and down. She wore Lord Dilandau's clothes, black slacks and red shirt, both stained with dirt and oil, and... Dallet squinted... there was a hole above the right knee of the pants. Lord Dilandau was gonna be so pissed.

"Yeah?"

"I was told I'd need your permission to look at my– Dilandau's melef."

Dallet snorted. The girl had a superior air about her that rivaled Sir Allen's any day, however, Sir Allen knew how to make his airs pretty. That unladylike sneer didn't suit Celena at all. The girl was gorgeous, and Lord Dilandau's clothes were tight on her, accenting curves and swelling breasts. Dallet wanted to rip the ponytail out of hair and have his way with her, but then envisioned being killed, roasted, and gobbled up. No thank you.

The other men in the room looked when Celena's back was turned, but Dallet noticed no one so much as cat-called when she passed. Looked like Dallet wasn't the only man with keen survival instincts.

"What do you wanna look at that piece of shit for? As soon as we've cleaned all this mess up, it'll be scavenged for parts."

Celena growled at him. "You think I can't tell it's a piece of shit by looking at it? I'm not going to try to pilot it, I want to... to see where Dilandau fought me from, go inside if I can."

Dallet frowned. The girl's face was flushed and Dallet didn't know if it was from frustration or embarrassment. Her blue eyes were bright and she looked away from Dallet, golden lashes shielding the expression Dallet had caught a glimpse of.

"Hey." Dallet reached out, but stopped himself before he actually touched her. Sure she'd been with Lord Dilandau and all, and they were supposed to regard her as they'd regard him to a certain extent. Dallet believed he'd reached that extent. If Lord Dilandau had been in front of him, Dallet would have given him a friendly punch on the shoulder, then maybe slung an arm around his neck. This was Celena, ex-enemy lord, ex-psycho Dragonslayer captain that hadn't wanted Dallet on her team. She might bite him, if he touched her, and he didn't put it past her to have rabies.

"Hey, don't be like that. You didn't hurt him or anything. There was never a scratch on him after any of your...er..." Well, they were a bit too one-sided to be called spars, but massacres might get Dallet punched– Celena didn't seem the type to slap. "Encounters?"

Celena shifted, still not looking at him. "Just because he wasn't hurt doesn't omit the fact that I tried to hurt him. I'm never gonna win any medals for being a great big sister or anything, but the last thing I ever want to do is hurt him."

"So, don't." Dallet shrugged. He knew what she was going through. Looking back at pasts you can't change was damn hard. All you could hope for was that person you hurt or got killed would eventually forgive you. Celena didn't have to hope. "He forgives you."

"Because he hasn't really thought about it. The brat's so happy to have me back with him that he doesn't even realize he doesn't know me. He doesn't remember half of the things we went through together, the times I took control, the things I convinced him to do. The damn Madoushi took so many of his memories, trying to sponge me out of his life, and I don't know if he'll get them back or if I even want him to."

Dallet raised a brow at Celena's disclosure. Was she really that comfortable with him? The girl did call all of them by name and nickname. It was possible she didn't feel awkward as they did around each other. But then, he couldn't see Celena feeling awkward about anything but a ball gown.

"Well, isn't that for him to decide? I mean, they're his memories, whether they be good or bad. Memories are what make you, you, you know?"

"You need a bigger vocabulary."

"You're not the first person to tell me that," Dallet said. "But you understand me, right?"

Celena sighed. "Does anyone really understand you?"

Dallet frowned.

"You talk too much at the worst times. I used to think, at times, you were a bigger mistake than Viole, but somehow, somehow that brat made it work. All of you turned out to be better than anything I could have put together. I tried to put together a team. I handpicked the Gorgons. None of them were as good as I would have liked, but they were the best Adelphos had to offer. I trained them and– they were good, dammit."

Dallet cleared his throat and looked away. He didn't feel bad for killing the Gorgons, as they did wreck his hometown and try to kill them, but he would offer her his condolences if she missed the sorry lot.

"But they didn't have Dragonslayer magic. There was something about each one of you that Dilan was able to see. Every String complimented each other. I thought he was just being stupid and soft, but he actually knew what he was doing. The Madoushi were right to choose to give him control. He's the better soldier, the better leader."

Celena hung her head and Dallet sighed and steeled his nerves. His hand went out again to touch her shoulder, and she didn't hit him. "Hey, we're going to have an audience in a minute if we keep standing so close together. You want to go outside?"

Dallet glanced around the busy hangar. Men were running to and fro, none glancing at them for more than a second or two, but he knew that would change. Celena nodded and Dallet let his hand fall from her shoulder.

They left through the door that led back inside the castle. The main hangar gate was wide open and flooded with soldiers and blood crusted metal. There was no getting out that way, only incoming traffic was allowed.

Celena's strides were as long as his own, and she held her back straight, stance wide. She walked like a man, like Lord Dilandau. Dallet wondered if it was from being inside a male body for so long, or if that was just how Celena walked. He'd always thought girls naturally swayed and twisted when they walked because of the way their bodies were made. The wider hips made them have to sashay in the way that had Dallet and Guimel running after them, ready to open doors and buy fruity 'get you drunk fast' drinks.

"So, what do you guys think about me, huh? I know you know I didn't pick you, or Guimel, or Viole, or Shesta for this team, and somehow all of you ended up being our–his Elite, the guys that saved him from Zaibach."

"Refina, Tristan, Ryuuon, Biore, Sergio, Andre, Keiran, Kwami, and Brian saved him for Zaibach," Dallet said. "We only brought him home."

"And took care of him and protected him and– did–still do– what I can't. You guys are bonded, linked, in a way Dilan and I aren't. I'll never really be a part of your group, though I co-founded it. I mean, when I was in charge, you guys ran from us– me and Dilandau– like the plague. I couldn't stand the close relationship he was forming with you. Soldiers and superiors are not supposed to be friends. It ruins the team. That's what we were taught, that's what we observed, but perfect Dilan turns everything he touches to gold. I was... jealous; I am jealous."

"Of Lord Dilandau?"

Celena grunted. "Yeah. I mean, I know nothing came to him easy. I know how hard he, we, worked and how much we suffered more than he does. It was hard to watch him go against training to do what he wanted. I thought I was so much smarter, better, for being harder than him, for remembering our lessons better. But in the end, he won, didn't he? Beat me, half dead, every time. My team was killed in a matter of minutes. They weren't a challenge to you at all, were they?"

Dallet shrugged. He'd thought the Gorgons were a joke. Those guys made Andre and Sergio, may they rest in peace, look like freakin' gods of war. Could a few months with Lord Dilandau really make that much of a difference in a soldier? Celena had said the Gorgons were Adelphos's best, so Dallet guessed it could.

"No. Sorry madam for your loss of the battle and your men, but I didn't break a sweat. And what's sad is that was the perfect day to attack us. We'd just gotten back from a mission and were exhausted, and Guimel and Miguel were hung-over as hell, and Lord Dilandau was ready to pass out before you'd even gotten there."

Celena scowled at him. "As I said before, you talk too much at the worst times. I don't want to hear about how much I suck as a leader."

"You were the one that brought all that stuff up, not me." What a bitch. Dallet didn't have to talk to her. He was being nice and she wasn't. Although, maybe the crack about how crappy the condition of the team was when she'd fought them hadn't been too sympathetic. Hell, Dallet wasn't the sensitive one, and if she knew him as well as she thought she did, she knew that.

"I did," Celena said. "Just forgot how blunt you can be. You say what's your mind."

"Sometimes." When he felt it could help someone, or when weird shit happened.

"I don't know what I was after when I started talking to you and telling you all this stuff, Dallet. I didn't want you to make me feel better, because I knew you wouldn't. I just... maybe, I'm trying to figure what it is inside of all of you that makes you so special."

Dallet blinked.

"Each of you adds something to the group, personality wise, that it needs to make it a good fighting unit. I never thought personality mattered much. I only looked at skill and strength, and Dilandau showed me that skill and strength can be learned and gained. I mean, all of you have some natural talent. I mean, Dilandau wouldn't have picked you, if you were completely hopeless with a sword, but he looked for more than that. I want..."

Celena stopped walking. They were heading toward a side door at the end of a servants' corridor. It would take them out behind one of the stables. "I want a team of my own again, and I don't want them to be like the Gorgons. I want a team like you, and I want to be able to pick them for myself without asking for his help."

"A team, huh?" Dallet almost grinned at that. He would never breathe a word of it to Lord Dilandau, but he wasn't thrilled with the idea of Celena joining their team. He knew he didn't like working with her or following her orders, because he knew for damn sure she wasn't going to take a backseat to Gatty or Shesta when they went out on missions. "Well, we've got plenty of cadets, and they're really coming along. You're going to be helping us train them. You can watch and choose some of them..."

"No." Celena shook her head. "I don't want anyone Dilandau's had a hand with. I don't want to be... compared to him."

"But you guys had the same training. Wouldn't your techniques be kinda similar?" Dallet had watched Celena fight as Valeska, and he admitted the girl had skill, and though she was no match for Lord Dilandau, Dallet didn't think _he_ could have stood up to her.

"Yeah, we did." Celena was quiet.

Had Dallet put his foot in his mouth? Geez. They were trained the same but Lord Dilandau was better. Dallet had come to accept it. He'd never be as good as Lord Dilandau. Lord Dilandau was incredible, special, a prodigy. Those kind of people you never try to touch, because you can't; you'd be wasting your time. Having someone like that for your twin had to be hard, especially when you thought– knew– people preferred him to you.

"Ah gods, I'm sorry Celena. I didn't think..."

"It's fine. You say what's on your mind. I'm not talking to you to be comforted and have my ego stroked. I'd talk to Gatty if I wanted that. He knows how to watch what he says without sounding like he is."

And he's the only one both you _and_ Lord Dilandau chose.

Gatty was another person that was good at whatever he tried for the most part, but he wasn't untouchable. Dallet wondered if Celena could beat Gatty, if Gatty went all out on her. Probably. Knowing that Gatty would lose against her too, made Dallet feel a bit better about himself. Lord Dilandau was right. They really needed to get back into shape. "So?"

"So?" Dallet glanced at the girl. He'd lost track of the conversation. It happened when people jumped from topic to topic. Celena didn't seem to be able to keep to one train of thought. Flighty bitch. Eh... not that Dallet could talk too much.

"How do you feel about me being here?"

Whoa. She had asked about that earlier, hadn't she? Dallet squirmed and licked his lips. Geez. What to say? He knew he hadn't liked her on the Vione, and he didn't know how he felt about the girl standing next to him now.

"You're Lord Dilandau's sister and he loves you."

Celena tapped her foot and Dallet hid a smirk. Foot tapping must be a Schezar trait. He couldn't dislike her. She reminded him too much of Lord Dilandau, but he knew he'd never feel the same way for her that she did about him.

"We'll deal. We accept you now, because Lord Dilandau wants us too, but give it some time. Let us get to know you, really know you, and then ask me or someone else that question again, ok? It's... it's not fair now."

"Is anything ever fair, Dallet?" Celena asked. "I'm used to being the odd guy out. Mama and Allen preferred Dilan over me, and Allen didn't even know he was there. So, I can't say that I care too much about it. I just want to know if it's going to affect how we'll work together."

Dallet snorted. "Please. You know we can work with anyone. We're professionals."

Celena snorted back. "Yeah, yeah. I seem to remember a certain team known as Hydra that you boys couldn't–"

"Hey. Those guys were asswipes, complete and utter asswipes. All broken limbs dealt were due to their asswipeness."

"I'm not arguing," Celena said with a slight grin. "Just letting you know that some people can't be worked with, and... well, I'll try my best to not be one of those people. Even though I want my own team to prove myself to, I'd still like to work with you sometime. You– you guys are loyal to Dilan, but I still feel like you're my boys too. Regardless if I chose you or not. You all grew on me."

Dallet chuckled and looked at her under his lashes. Celena wore a smirk and walked with a little bounce in her step. She looked like Lord Dilandau ready to jump into an Alseid and head out with them. A rush of warm made his mouth twitch into a wide smile and... what the hell. He slung an arm around her neck. "Yeah, and maybe you'll grow on us too."

He was thrown off and went careening into the stone wall with an "oof". Strong girl, this Celena. Dallet liked them strong and mouthy. If she could work on the walk, he might consider her breeches again–wait, she wore Lord Dilandau's pants. Oh yuck!

The only time Little Dallet had been less excited was when Pincurl got out of that machine in all his naked nastiness.

"Keep your hands to yourself and the maids, Dally-boy, and we'll get along just fine."

Dallet rubbed his sore shoulder and mock-glared at the girl, before falling into step with her again. "I can already tell this is going to be fun."

Dallet got to the door first and opened it, holding it for Celena, who glared at him. Ok. He let it go and cackled as the door smacked her in the face, then took off running. He heard the crack of a door crashing against stone and swift steps coming after him.

Running through a garden oblivious to the aftermath of war with a beautiful girl on his heels, Dallet grinned. The future was going to be exciting, and he was already having fun.

* * *

Author's Note: Well that was the first part. What's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Either way, let me know; please review. Next part will feature Gatty, Shesta and Miguel :)

* * *


	37. Chapter 32: Part 2 of 3

Author's Note: All right, here is the next part of the last chapter. I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for all of the reviews :). If you would like me to reply to you, and you don't have an account, please leave me an e-mail address. I would like to personally thank you.

* * *

Chapter 32: Part 2

Gatty left the third meeting of the Allied Minds with a migraine. Who knew so many guymelef-sized egos could fit in one throne room? Thirty foreign men, Gatty, Van, Lord Folken, Lord Dryden and Sir Allen had sat around a long rectangular table commonly used for banquets, arguing about the economic states of their countries, military losses, new boundaries, and war reparations. They wanted Zaibach to pay; they wanted Basram to pay. Hell, in Gatty's opinion, everyone had contributed to the destruction the fight brought on; they should all pay. Gatty, however, would have to hand in an IOU.

He was broke after buying that paint set for Lord Dilandau. Shesta had sprung for the canvases. Guimel and Dallet buying Lord Dilandau fancy breeches and silk pyjamas had made the rest of them look bad, thus starting the _Who can get Lord Dilandau the best present?_ competition. Gatty and Shesta were winning now, but the evening of elegance Miguel and Viole were putting together for late next week was going to put them all to shame. After a month of confinement, Lord Dilandau's first outdoor venture would be his first...er...second date, and Miguel and Viole could and would take all the credit for it.

"I don't know about you, but all that bickering made me hungry." Gatty grinned as Van caught up with him.

"You wanna grab something from the mess hall, or go up to Lord Dilandau's room and order service?"

Van sighed, looking over his shoulder at Sir Allen who was walking behind them with Lord Dryden and Lord Folken. "It depends on where Allen's having breakfast this fine morning. Have you noticed that he appears everywhere Dilandau and I go? We go to the library, there's Allen. We go to the music room, here comes Allen. 'Hey kids, what are you up to?' Celena's dragged him off a few times, but she can't keep doing it."

Gatty pretended to cough to mask chuckles.

"You ok?" Van patted his back.

"Oh, yeah, just swallowed wrong." Gatty managed to sound choked up.

Sir Allen lurking after Van and Lord Dilandau was castle entertainment. Half the staff assisted him, tipping him off to where Van and Lord Dilandau would be, and the other half helped Van and Lord Dilandau escape. Gatty and the other Slayers were part of the other half, as were Celena, Lord Folken, Dr. Marie, Pearce, Lord Dryden and Princess Millerna. Lord Dryden took special delight in finding ridiculous tasks for Sir Allen to do for him to keep Sir Allen from bothering Van and Lord Dilandau.

There were daily bets on where Sir Allen would spring from, and whether Lord Dilandau or Van would finally snap and draw weapons. Celena always betted on the weapon drawing. Violent woman that one, and she got more violent when it came to people messing with her little brother. Sir Allen seemed bewildered by it, like he couldn't understand Celena condoning Lord Dilandau having a relationship if she was that protective of him.

It rather stumped Gatty too. Celena seemed hot and cold around anyone who took up too much of Lord Dilandau's time, meaning sometimes she glared at Gatty, Shesta, Dallet, Viole, Guimel and Miguel. She spent more than enough time with Lord Dilandau, though. And after an hour of being in each other's presence, they were questioning the other's parentage, throwing things, and screaming: Get the hell out of my face!

So, what made Van special enough to not deserve a Celena-glare?

Gatty caught Van by the arm. "Let's take the stairway down into the basement and come back up behind the Old Queen's parlor. I don't think Sir Allen will expect us to go that way."

Van nodded, following Gatty as he veered away from the group. Sir Allen walked past, growling at something Lord Dryden was saying with a large smile on his face. Gatty smirked as Lord Dryden gave him a subtle wave. Lord Folken's eyes rolled over to them and he chimed into Lord Dryden and Sir Allen's conversation, seeming to agree with whatever it was Lord Dryden was talking about.

Gatty and Van entered the kitchen, slipping past cooks and kitchen staff. A basket of fruit, jam, butter, and bread was passed to them along with a plate of hot biscuits and a thermos of something hot. Gatty and Van accepted the gifts, Gatty looking over his shoulder for familiar faces. How did these guys know they'd come through the kitchen? Unless this was something they had prepared for Lord Dilandau anyway... but that seemed too convenient.

Pearce leaned against a wooden counter near one of the many stoves, nibbling on a pear. A beautiful woman stirred something on the counter beside him, pausing to offer him spoonfuls of the mixture. Pearce raised a brow at Gatty and Gatty smiled back.

Pearce, creepy as hell, but good to have around in any situation, whether it be battling zombies or catching breakfast on the run. But how the hell did he know that Gatty and Van were going to come through here, the time they'd be doing it, and where they'd be going? Gatty shuddered.

"What's wrong?" Van asked. He held the basket and pushed open the door to the stairwell that led to the basement. Musty air made Gatty wrinkle his nose.

"Nothing." Just glad Pearce was on their side.

"Oh." They hurried down the stairs and Gatty swiped a torch from the wall when they reached the grotto. He took lead, since he knew where they were going. Queen Camille's rooms were roped off and off-limits to servants and nobles alike. They were in shambles, the carpets threadbare, the oil paintings peeling, the furniture falling apart, the floor boards rotting. That wing of the castle was an accident waiting to happen and had been in the stages of being renovated for over 30 years. King Aston never got around to it, and Lord Dryden had more pressing matters to deal with. There was also the fact that he couldn't care less; probably didn't even know about the place.

"Hey Gatty?" Gatty swung the torch around to catch Van's face in the light. "You ever wonder why Celena seems to be so ok with me while Allen's going nuts thinking I'm perverting Dilandau?"

Gatty blinked. "Yeah." _In fact, I was just wondering about it._ Van was having a Pearce moment. "She doesn't seem to like when anybody spends too much time with Lord Dilandau, but for some reason she's ok with you."

Van hummed. "Really? She's ok with Folken too, and Allen, and Marie. She's only a little weird when it's you guys, but I thought you guys had some kind of... personal thing going on. I didn't know it wasn't mutual."

Gatty frowned, pondering what Van said. He... noticed that now, that Celena didn't seem bothered by Folken either. It was just...

"I think you all make her feel left out. I mean, when you guys all get together you're this unit that I know I'll never be part of, and I'm ok with that. Celena technically was part of your unit at one time, right? But you don't treat her like it."

Gatty grunted. "She wasn't really. I mean, she was, but..." Gods, this was hard. Celena was with them, she'd partially led them, and had completely led them at some points, but... When she'd made her presence known, they hadn't liked it. Perhaps she was a comrade, but she wasn't a favored one.

Though, even disfavored comrades were part of the group. Gatty felt like a heel. He knew what it was like to walk into a room of people well acquainted with each other and be the odd man out. Celena didn't care that they spent time together, maybe she just wanted to be able to sit and join them. No one had been mean to her or anything. In fact, Celena and Dallet got on quite well, and they went drinking together every now and again with Guimel, but nobody else joined them. Part of that could be because she was a woman. Gatty hadn't drunk with Refina either... but she was still part of the team and they'd found other things to do with her in tow.

Gatty would have to talk to the others about it.

"Hey, did I step out of line?" Van asked, sounding concerned. "I just wanted to help."

"No, no you're fine. Gave me something to think about and all." Eighth door on the right. Gatty used his shoulder to push the door open, grunting as the door groaned and caught. Next time, he would prop it open with something. This was a pain.

"Watch your step, Van. Some of the stairs are bad. Walk where I do."

Lord Dilandau and Viole had found this staircase and the rooms two weeks ago. Lord Dilandau couldn't leave the castle, but he surely didn't stay in his room. He and Viole had explored every nook of the castle and were still finding secret passageways and staircases. Dr. Marie wasn't pleased, but between letting Lord Dilandau and Viole play indoor explorers or having Lord Dilandau sneaking outside, she kept her mouth closed. Princess Eries thought it was cute and told Lord Dilandau so long as he stayed out of King Aston's wing, he was free to roam wherever he wanted.

"Gods, how long has it been since anyone's used this hall?"

"Hm, probably since the Old Queen died decades ago." Gatty hung close to the wall, and kicked the door to the stairway closed. "Hug the wall, Van."

The red carpet on the floor had faded to a dull rose color. They entered the foyer. Stale powders and perfumes stank up the room and the floor screamed as Gatty walked on the paper X's Lord Dilandau and Viole had taped to the floor.

"Geez, Dilandau and Viole come in here a lot?"

"They like to draw in here. They said something about the way the light comes in through the back windows."

A large tarp was spread in the center of the floor and red fabric was stretched over it. The expensive paint set Gatty had bought sat in a moth eaten chair, neatly covered and waiting for Lord Dilandau's return.

"What's that?" Van asked, nodding at the tarp

"The sails for Guimel and Dallet's stupid boat. You haven't seen the boat guts they keep in the small hangar? They work on it, or rather Dallet works on it, when he can."

"Dallet's really got his hands full, lately, huh?" Van said. "We all do, with the clean up, and classes, but he does all that plus other stuff. I don't know how he keeps up with it all."

Guimel chuckled. He didn't know how Dallet kept up with it all either, but the grease monkey came crawling back to bed happy, and filthy, every night, so no one said anything. Guimel told them that playing in the guts of the new Silvers Folken had commissioned was the equivalent of sex for Dallet.

"It's really cool how Dryden listened to your idea about building new melefs for you guys. It's not good for Astoria's best team to be without their best weapons for too long."

Gatty shrugged. Dryden would pretty much do anything any of them asked to keep them in the country. No one was going to tell him that they'd planned to stay and help Astoria anyway. It was their home now.

"Well, with certain allies," Gatty didn't name names, castles had many ears in strange places, "proceeding very strangely, we can't be too cautious."

Basram and Godashim were being especially suspicious, and Basram had monster bombs. They assured everyone the bomb dropped during the war was the only one, but Gatty didn't buy it and neither did Lord Folken.

"And then there's Zaibach. The country's in pieces without Dornkirk, but some of its generals, soldiers, and sorcerers are still out there. We'll catch them if they start trouble," Gatty said. He didn't like thinking about Madoushi at large. Whatever generals and soldiers were left could eventually be rounded up, but the Madoushi needed to be dealt with as soon as possible. Gatty didn't want to hear about them hurting people, experimenting on them, anymore. Maybe he owed them for giving Lord Dilandau a life of his own, so that Gatty could meet, serve and befriend him, but was it worth all of the torture Lord Dilandau went through?

Gatty felt awful. He always thought 'yes', because he didn't want to think about where he might be if it wasn't for Lord Dilandau. He might still be with Zaibach, dead on the battlefield or in hiding. He probably never would have had a real reason to fight for anything. He'd chosen to join the Zaibach military to get away from home; he fought to make Lord Dilandau proud, to avenge and honor fallen comrades, and to protect countries that housed people precious to him. Would he even have had precious people without Lord Dilandau?

So... maybe he _should_ thank the Madoushi or better yet, Celena. Celena was the one who couldn't stand Lord Dilandau and delivered them both to the Madoushi. Hm. Another reason to include Celena in group fun: if it wasn't for her, there would be no group.

Van yelped and Gatty turned to see the boy king half off an X with a foot sunken into the floor. "I told you to step where I stepped. Pass me your stuff."

Gatty took the biscuits and thermos from Van and waited for him to free his boot.

Van tugged at his leg and ended up taking off his boot to avoid a twisted ankle. "Folken won't take the crown from me."

Gatty frowned. "What?"

"The Fanelian crown. He's the oldest; he should be king. He's smart and knows about politics and economics, but he says he doesn't deserve it."

Well, Folken hadn't been in Fanelia for a long time and did order to have it destroyed. Even if he hadn't wanted to do it, Folken didn't try to stop it. "He has to do penance, Van."

"And after that?"

Gatty glanced at Van as he rubbed his ankle through a thick sock. "I don't know, Van. Wait and see. He hasn't been home in years; the people don't know him anymore, and..." Lord Folken's supposed to stay with us.

"Wait and see." Van laughed bitterly. "I've done a lot of that lately, Gatty. I don't want to do it anymore. I... I'm too young to be king. I've only just now figured out and gotten what I want. How can I explore what I have with Dilandau, if in a few months I have to return to Fanelia to be king? Kings don't get time off. When will I ever see him? Allen's not gonna let him come with me. He might come visit, but what kind of time will I be able to make for him?"

Gatty set down the food and tiptoed over the X's to Van. He knelt in front of the boy king. "Van, calm down. You're forgetting who you're with. Lord Dilandau's not some needy woman. He understands that you're a king and you've got business. He knows you'll eventually go back to Fanelia. He wants to come out and help you and Folken set up." He's not staying; Folken's not staying, but they'll be there for a while.

Gatty didn't think adding that last part was necessary.

"And then what?" Van sounded miserable. "Maybe he's not a needy kind of guy, but what if I am? I want to see him more than once a month."

"Van, even if you were going to stay here, you might not see him once a month, after he's back on his feet and busy."

Van groaned. "Ah, Gatty. I want this to work."

"Then make it work," Gatty said. "Soldiers hook up all the time. I kept a girlfriend for 2 years that I only saw once every 3 months. I think that might be why we stayed together so long, that and she never found out about the other girls I saw on the side. But, away from all that, the point is we made it work. And I know other people who've done similar things."

"Once every three months." Van looked heavenward.

"Van, wait until you get there, ok? It'll be months, before anyone's packing to go anywhere. And you're forgetting your big brother's having our Silvers rebuilt, new and improved. Faster engines, better designs. With guymelefs like that, crossing borders takes hours. If Lord Dilandau really wanted to, he could see you everyday."

"As if Allen would let him..."

"As if anyone could stop him from doing something he really wanted," Gatty said with a snort. "Now get up, so we can get this stuff to Lord Dilandau's room before it gets cold. You know he hates cold breakfast bread."

Van sighed, then smiled. "Right." Van slipped his boot back on and Gatty gathered the food, passing the basket to Van.

The door stuck on the way out and Gatty had to kick it open. He grimaced as the door splintered a bit. "Damn." That one would come out of his stipends if anyone noticed. The Slayer stairway was empty. The others were probably out with their cadets. Gatty would take his out that evening.

"Hey Gatty?"

"Hm."

They approached Lord Dilandau's door.

"Thanks for talking to me back there. I know I get on your nerves."

"You don't." He didn't. Gatty didn't mind talking to Van. He and Lord Dilandau were...heaven forbid...cute. They weren't the usual couple. They didn't snuggle or hold hands. They played darts and Lord Dilandau taught Van to gamble. They read the same books, trading titles, so they could discuss them later. Sometimes, Van would go out with his team on a surveillance mission, and return with strange artifacts for Lord Dilandau to sketch stories about. One was so good Viole wanted to turn it into a short play for the currently missing Surfside Players.

Van grinned. "You're a good friend."

Gatty smirked. He liked to think so. Friends meant everything to him. Van opened the door ad Gatty followed him in. The curtain was gone, and Gatty found it weird to see who was in Lord Dilandau's room as soon as the door opened, especially when the who was...

"Ah, Van, Gatty, I was wondering when you two would get here. Dilandau said you'd probably bring breakfast. He's in the bathroom washing up."

Sir Allen sat at Lord Dilandau's table wielding a felt pen and parchment. He tucked the pen behind his ear as he stared at them expectantly.

Gatty pretended to cough again as Van moaned.

Gatty would never get tired of this, and when Van finally did have to go home, Gatty and the others would probably accompany Lord Dilandau on a few of his trips to see Van. Gatty was going to talk to the others about doing a better job including Celena in their circle, and maybe he'd do the same for Van too. What was building between them all was special, and nothing short of war, hell not even war, could tear it down.

* * *

Shesta dismissed his cadets after they passed through the castle's main gates. The boys saluted and dispersed like kids being let out of class. Well, Shesta supposed his border patrol group wasn't as interesting as Miguel's search unit or Dallet's scavenging team. They'd drawn duties from an old boot, and Shesta and his cadets got stuck with the strip no one wanted to draw.

Border patrol was a messy, annoying job. There were so many stragglers left over from the war, some military deserters from other countries, some people who had fled the war and were trying to return, and the rest, homeless wanders, nomads. Everyone had to be able to identify themselves, and some of the people were unable to speak the common language. Those people were escorted to a special shelter just outside the capital, full of translators. Now, since the gods loved Shesta, he and his group always stopped travelers with no identification that spoke languages that made the translators scratch their heads. When this happened, Shesta ended up filling out books of paperwork about where he found the people and their demeanor and dealing with temporary housing forms.

For 8 hours, Shesta and his boys marched through the outskirts of Palas, neighboring cities, and the shore, while their friends got to play detective and hunt up missing people, or comb the battlefield, looking at busted war tools and seeing what could still be used. It was hot, boring, and by the end of the day, everyone was cranky and in need of a bath. But it was a valuable lesson to the cadets. They had a bit of a glorified image of what soldiers did, having become soldiers during a time of war and studying under Lord Dilandau and the Dragonslayers. They'd never seen the humbling tasks, and some of them thought they were above them.

I'm not even above them, Shesta thought with a silent snort.

"Yo, Shes, what's up with that face? You look ready to bite someone."

Shesta had entered the hangar. Viole sat on a metal table, looking out of place in the throng of sweaty, greasy mechanics, in clean tan breeches and a purple silk shirt. He nibbled a peach, juice dribbling down his chin that he wiped with a short sleeve.

"I might." Shesta stopped beside his friend. "Why are you all dressed up?"

Viole grinned, wavy bangs falling into his eyes. The rest of his hair was pulled back in a neat, low tail. "Miguel and I are going to try out restaurants in North Astoria."

North Astoria? The war hadn't reached that far, so everything was probably functioning as if nothing had happened, but this was hardly the time for Miguel and Viole to be going out on... dates. "Viole, don't you have work..."

"It's for Lord Dilandau and Van's date next week. Everything around here is still all screwy, and we don't want Lord Dilandau to be thinking about work when he should be focusing on where and how he's going to kiss Van."

Lord Dilandau's date? Shesta's brows rose. That was right. Viole and Miguel were trying to beat Shesta and Gatty's gifts to Lord Dilandau. Shesta and Gatty's gifts had topped Dallet and Guimel's, but Viole and Miguel just might beat them all. Shesta had seen one or the both of them carrying around thick notebooks filled with dates and events. They'd even reserved the Crusade with Gaddes, Kyo and Reeden as the on-board crew, and hired a baby–er–man-sitter for Sir Allen on the big day. Shesta didn't think Sir Allen would be pleased, if he found out his date for that evening was being indirectly funded by Lord Dryden.

"How goes patrol?" Viole offered Shesta a bite of his peach, and Shesta waved it away. _Gross_. He shared space, clothing, and germs with these guys, but he drew the line at sharing spit.

"Geez, prude much. You act like we never shared anything before. What about that wonderful virus you so kindly..."

"How many times do I have to say 'I'm sorry' about that?" Shesta snatched the damn peach and took a big bite, ignoring how wet the peach felt as his lips and tongue brushed over the fruit. It was juice... juice from the peach, not spit, he told himself.

Viole raised a brow at him and Shesta growled deep in his throat before swallowing. Truth be told, no matter how snappish Shesta got about it, he still felt guilty about getting Viole sick. The virus had struck Viole harder than it had Shesta, and it had taken him a week longer than Shesta to recuperate. The guys teased the hell out of Shesta about it, calling him "Plague Carrier." Shesta hoped they would casually forget the name over time, but Viole's lingering cough was an annoying reminder.

"If I have to fill out one more Place of Origin form, I'll scream, Viole, and my cadets are just asking for me to teach them what it's like to fence with prosthetics." Shesta was being a bit hard. Not all of his cadets were begging to be sliced limb from limb, just the disobedient bastards that had run off to war and come back with their tails between their legs. Lord Dilandau didn't want to cut them from the team until all the grunt work was done, because he believed the more hands the better. However, Lord Dilandau didn't have to work with their ungrateful asses. They came to work with smug expressions, undoubtably thinking that the Slayers were overlooking their discretions without punishment, because the Slayers needed them. Seventeen boys in all had returned, bowing their heads in unfelt apology and asking to be let back into class. Celena had taken the most arrogant of them and opted not to draw from the boot, but to make up tasks for them herself.

All five of her cadets quit the first day. Shesta wished he could send three of his five to her. Celena looked a bit glum with no one to torture. Shesta repressed a shudder. He remembered when it had seemed Lord Dilandau was out to torture them a year ago aboard the Vione. Only it wasn't Lord Dilandau, it was Celena.

"Man, Shes, you're gonna wrinkle if you keep screwing up your forehead like that. Is it really that bad?" Viole took back his peach and turned it over to a side no one had bitten. He winked at Shesta as he took a bite.

"You little..."

"Ow!"

"Keep your eyes off my ass, if you like em' in your face!"

Voices and clanging in the hangar died a bit as attention shifted to a burly mechanic/ melef pilot cringing away from a slender, blond boy with a ponytail. Shesta squinted.

"Is that Celena?" Viole asked.

Shesta sighed and rubbed his face. "Yeah." The scene ended with Celena kneeing the guy in the groin and stomping off toward Dallet's corner of the hangar. She and Dallet were quite cozy with one another, which annoyed Guimel because it was no secret he couldn't stand "the crazy broad". Shesta always chuckled when Guimel knocked on doors to let them know he and Dallet were going drinking, and Celena had invited herself, with a sour look on his face. Viole laughed and told Guimel he didn't like Celena because she'd cut his hand off before it got near her pants.

If no sex was Guimel's problem, what was Shesta's? Try as he might, he found he couldn't stand Celena either. She was crass, as were Dallet and Guimel. She was annoying, as was Viole. She was bossy, as were Lord Dilandau and Gatty. She was arrogant, as was Miguel. She was cranky, as some liked to say Shesta was. All of her more endearing qualities Shesta ignored in his good friends, so why couldn't he ignore them in her? Maybe because... maybe because she almost made Shesta hate Lord Dilandau once. Maybe it was because underneath everything she let them see, Shesta sensed she had a nasty core.

She didn't care that the Gorgons, her handpicked team, had died. Her excuse was that they were disloyal and useless. But, they were still her men, her team. She'd led them to slaughter and left their bodies on the field. She hadn't blinked an eye when she was told how the Second and Third String fell. She didn't care; she'd scolded Lord Dilandau for caring when they'd been... together.

"Man, that guy's brave," Viole commented. His tone was cool, dark blue eyes slightly narrowed. Shesta wondered if Viole was a closet member of the 'Pitch Celena Back to Zaibach' Club. Viole would never come clean about not liking Celena, Shesta knew. Not when it could get back to Lord Dilandau somehow. For all they fought, Lord Dilandau was crazy about his sister.

"So," Viole brightened, and nudged Shesta, "patrol. Have you... maybe run into anyone... or seen..."

"Heather?" Shesta finished. Viole smiled, sitting up straight for any news, and Shesta looked away. He couldn't stand watching Viole's eyes dim every time he told him he hadn't heard anything about Heather or her acting troop. Shesta asked every wanderer they came across if they knew of the Surfside Players. The ones that spoke common shook their heads, and the ones that didn't, Shesta held up a picture that Viole had sketched. Shesta didn't want to say it, no one wanted to say it, but Viole might have better luck asking Captain Zane's and Captain Roget's teams, who were in charge of the unclaimed casualties, about his missing girlfriend. Those teams had bodies brought to them from as far as the Western Borders and scouted East for suitable burial grounds.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing. I'm sorry, Vi."

"Sorry? About what, Shes? You're doing what you can for me. It's not like you're a bounty hunter or something and I'm paying you to find her." Viole's laugh was hollow. "Besides, I still remember what you said about trusting her family to take care of her. Maybe they're just hiding really, really good."

Hiding from what? Shesta refrained from asking. "Yeah, that could be it."

Viole set his peach down beside him and yawned big. "The days seem like they're getting longer, but there's still no time to sleep. Sometimes, I feel like there's no end to this. I miss just working with Lord Dilandau and a handful of cadets on fencing and having our nights mostly free to roam."

"Yeah," Shesta agreed. He and Gatty used to go to sports bars and play darts and watch wrestling matches between foot soldiers and pilots. He also missed their group outings.

"But, I remember the Vione, when training days were awful and I just wanted to die. I thought that time would never end too, but it did, and this is no where near as bad. We're doing good here and people acknowledge us for it. I really can't get too down about a job where I feel like I'm making myself a better person. And when the job's done, things will be better than normal. Ah, aside from Folken making us do the school thing again. Nobody had to go to school in Dallet's village, and in Gatty's, most people didn't go anymore after 12. So, I don't see why we have to go."

"What age did people stop going to school in your province, Viole?" Shesta smirked at Viole's glare.

"Twenty-two. Everybody went to university or finishing school, but..."

"You're as noble here as you were there. Face it; people look up to us. We are now the guys mothers point out to their little boys and say: If you're a good boy, you'll turn out like them."

Shesta had actually heard a few women make those kind of comments, and he'd blushed so hard Gatty claimed his ears were red. He was a role-model; they were all role-models, and not just to soldiers. It was strange to see people gazing at him like they looked at Lord Dilandau. In Dallet's village, people had revered all of the Slayers, but there was a gap that was never bridged between them and Lord Dilandau.

"Ai, I don't want to be an example for the next generation," Viole groaned.

"How about a sex symbol? All of the girls at court love..."

"Shut up, Shes. I swear you've been hanging out with Guimel too much. I'll have to let Dallet know how much Guimel misses his company, and maybe he'll kick Celena to the curb for him."

Shesta had been playing a Dallet to Guimel on breaks, when no one else could do it. It was... different to be around Guimel so much, but not a bad different. Shesta realized he didn't know Guimel as well as he should, and wanted to change that. "Do you think Dallet and Celena are...?"

Viole shook his head. "Nah, no way. She's one of the guys to him. Miguel asked."

Miguel asked?

"Miguel's kinda weird around Celena, you know? He used to get all quiet, when she was in the room with him. At first I thought he didn't like her– I mean I... please don't tell Lord Dilandau... but I sort of don't– but I think Miguel's found a new toy."

Shesta almost fell over. One hand gripped the table, the other Viole's knee. "Huh?"

Viole chuckled. "Yeah. His eyes follow her like they used to follow Lady Millicent."

Lady Millicent, the late General Keller's youngest daughter. She was pretty, beautiful even, with a healthy, almost orange tan to her skin that complimented her auburn hair. She was knowledgeable about military science, and on occasion, she and her bubbly friends would sit outside practice, waiting for a Slayer to occupy their time with. Shesta had enjoyed a few afternoons with them.

"How can he compare Celena to Lady Millicent?"

Viole shrugged. "Lady Millicent doesn't know how to hold a sword."

Shesta blinked.

"Miguel doesn't need a dainty lady; he needs an equal." Viole slid off the table, and Shesta almost lost his balance. "Heya, Miguel. Ready to go?"

Shesta's eyes widened as he felt someone at his back. He turned to find Miguel gazing cooly at the both of them. He was dressed as finely as Viole in red silk and black satin, arms folded over his chest. "Why are you two talking about me?"

"Cause you're so darn interesting, Miguel," Viole said. "Don't worry; we weren't talking about your affinity to silk undergarments or anything."

Miguel's face paled, and his expression did a dance that bordered on angry and mortified, before his earlier coolness returned. "At least I prefer mine without lace, Viole."

Viole gasped. "Miguel, no fair blabbing about my fetish. Next you'll be telling people what color I paint my toenails."

Not missing a beat, Miguel said, "Coral."

Shesta shook his head at his friends as they launched half-hearted punches at each other and smiled. "I'm guessing you two won't be back for dinner. Should I tell Lord Dilandau where you are, or am I keeping secrets for you?"

The dark haired nobility of the group grinned. "But don't think you're taking any credit for our awesome gift by keeping your trap shut, Shes," Viole said.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Miguel and Viole crossed the room to their Blues. Shesta sighed. He needed a shower, and some food, and a nap, and– he spied Gatty entering the hangar, calling greetings to a few men– some quality time with a good friend.

The days were grueling, Shesta's nerves were tried by the minute, and Celena... he heard her loud voice carrying over the others, exclaiming over something Dallet had probably said... was not going away any time soon. But, like Viole said, it wouldn't last forever, and when it was over, things would be better than normal. Shesta imagined more nights out, but this time with Lord Dilandau and Van in tow... and Celena tied up somewhere... with a smile.

In the meantime, while Shesta waited for the day he didn't want to run his students through and drown his lack of remorse in alcohol, he was comforted by knowing his comrades probably felt the same way most of the time.

"Hey Gatty," Shesta shouted a few times, catching his friend's attention. "Are you busy right now?"

* * *

Miguel stared at the 5-inch tattoo of a serpent winding around a blade on Lord Dilandau's lower back. _When had he gotten that?_ Lord Dilandau was shifting through his closet for the perfect shirt to go with the low rise silver pants Guimel had given him. Miguel wasn't fond of the idea of Lord Dilandau wearing a gift from Guimel and Dallet while accepting a gift from Miguel and Viole, but the pants looked good on him. They would match the silver-blue tunic Van had bought Lord Dilandau on their first date perfectly. That is, if Lord Dilandau could find it.

"I don't see it in here!" Viole called from the other side of the room where he was searching the dressers.

"Look under the bed next. I think Celena stuffed some clothes under there she didn't want me to see after she borrowed them. If she messed up my shirt, I swear I'll kill her this time. I mean it. I'm tired of her taking my stuff!"

Miguel hid a grin behind his hand and watched Lord Dilandau's tattoo dance as he reached for the high shelf in the closet. There were items in boxes on top of the long rank the hangers suspended from.

"Hey, you're getting it mild. My sisters used to go at it about clothes and jewelry and make-up and junk. We're talking shredded dresses, muddy make-up, strings of pearls with no pearls. They used to claw each other and shriek," Viole said.

Miguel snorted. "My brothers fist fought over everything. They stole each others' stuff so much, they didn't know what belonged to who."

"Well, I know what belongs to me, and I wish Celena would wear dresses and make-up and pearls."

"Celena in drag," Viole said, laughing. "She's more manly than we are."

"Someone needs to teach her how to be a damn girl," Lord Dilandau grumbled, snatching something off the rack and whirling around. A pair of thoroughly ripped breeches with complimenting splotches of mud, something yellow, and oil, dangled from his hands. Lord Dilandau waved them. "Why would she put these back in my closet like I'm going to wear them again? She's trying to piss me off. Van needs to call Hitomi back from the Mystic Moon. She wasn't as girly as the princess, but she still acted like she had breasts, dammit. Maybe she could rub off on Celena."

"Hitomi had breasts?" Viole was wiggling under the bed, his head and torso vanished.

"Well, she had places for breasts. You know what I mean!" Lord Dilandau balled the breeches up and threw them at Viole's kicking legs.

"Ow! Hey, no fair throwing things at me when I can't dodge!"

"Says who?" Miguel wished he had something to throw. He went back to polishing the gray leather and silver, metal toes of Lord Dilandau's boots. Miguel and the boots sat on a tarp they'd cut in half to avoid getting the floor dirty.

"Well, I guess I could wear the black shirt Dallet got–"

"No!" Miguel dropped his leather sponge.

Lord Dilandau half turned with a hand on his hip to give Miguel a curious look. "You had a problem with me wearing these pants, and now you're complaining about a very nice, and very expensive might I add, shirt? You have one sort of like it, Miguel, so you can't be opposed to the style. Honestly, if I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't want me to wear it because Dallet..." He trailed off and hummed in amusement.

"All right. What is this? First Guimel and Dallet give me clothes, then Gatty and Shesta buy me paint and canvases, and now you two go out of your way to give me and Van a night out. It's not my birthday, and you know I'd kill you if these are 'So glad you didn't die' presents. You guys having some sort of contest?"

Miguel went back to scrubbing. The boots were clean, shone like new, but nothing could ever be too shiny. Miguel looked over to see that Viole had gone completely under the bed.

"You guys are having a contest!"

"Ah... hey, don't get mad!" Viole pulled himself from under the bed and stood, dusting himself off. "It didn't start off that way."

Lord Dilandau shut his wardrobe and leaned against it. "Explain."

"Well, you see, Guimel and Dallet went and got you those fancy clothes, and it made the rest of us look bad, cause we didn't get you anything. So, then Shesta and Gatty went into a present together, and then they started arguing with Guy and Dally about whose gifts were better. Me and Miguel were left out, so we said we'd get you something too and it'd be the best gift ever, and then... it was a contest."

"Knuckleheads, indeed," Lord Dilandau grumbled to himself, rolling his eyes. Miguel didn't miss the tiny smile on his lips though. "Well, what should I wear then, if I'm banned from wearing anything else from Guimel and Dallet's contest entries?"

"You could wear..."

"Here's your shirt, Dilan. I had it steamed and pressed for ya." The bedroom door opened and Celena stepped in, holding a silver-blue, gauntlet-sleeve shirt on a wooden hangar. The girl had her hair down for a change, and the curls hung an inch past her bare shoulders.

Lord Dilandau stalked toward his sister, snatching the shirt and clutching it to his chest. "What were you doing with my shirt? Stop taking my stuff without asking!"

"Gee, what happened to 'Thanks Big Sis for making sure I wouldn't be wrinkly for my hot date tonight'? Ungrateful brat." Celena folded her arms over her chest and Miguel stared. She wore a man's black undershirt and the thin straps of a white brassiere showed on either side. Celena did have breasts; the shirt's she stole from Lord Dilandau weren't good for flattering them.

"I bet Allen would have a heart attack if he saw you walking around the castle like that," Lord Dilandau said, pulling the shirt off the hangar. "And I wish you'd stop with that big sister, little brother shit. It's getting on my nerves."

"Everything gets on your nerves, Dilan. What else is new?" Celena nodded to Miguel and joined him on the floor, taking one of the boots and inspecting it. "I think you went overboard with the spit shine, Migs."

Miguel winced at the nickname. "They look fine."

"Yeah, they'd be great in a blackout." Celena snorted. She set the boot down and gazed at Miguel under bronze tipped lashes. "You sure this place is safe? There are a lot of deserters that we haven't rounded up yet. I don't want Dilan running into them without someone watching his back."

Miguel nodded. "It's clear. Viole and I staked out the terrain and asked around. Then we tipped some of the officials in the area to play sentry, but be discreet about it. And also, Gaddes, Kyo and Reeden will be nearby. It'll be fine."

"I'd feel better about it, if they were just going to have dinner and come home. You couldn't arrange for a play to be shown here or something?"

Miguel shook his head at Celena's protective streak. Shesta, Guimel, and Viole wanted to write Celena off as a cold bitch, but they couldn't deny that Celena loved Lord Dilandau like a mother bear loved her cub. She had odd ways of showing it. The pure fact that she was helping Lord Dilandau pursue his relationship with Van attested to her feelings. She saw the way Van made Lord Dilandau smile.

Unfortunately, Sir Allen saw it too. "Has Sir Allen already gone?"

Celena rolled her eyes. Miguel had ignored her question. "Yeah, yeah Len left with that floozy a while ago. I told him I'd look after Dilandau and make sure him and Van were never alone in a room with the door closed, and all that good stuff."

"He really asked you to..."

"Oh no," Lord Dilandau groaned. He stood in front of a full-length mirror. The tunic was a loose fit and fell a few inches past the waistband of his pants. The complete outfit accenting his coloring. His silver hair looked smooth as silk and gleamed like precious metal, and his skin was fair as milk with a faint flush, giving him a healthy glow.

Miguel shut his eyes for a moment as a warm feeling spread from head to toe. Lord Dilandau looked like himself again. The dark circles beneath his eyes had vanished and he was gaining weight. All of that was good, but the thing that most pleased Miguel was the spark, the flame behind Lord Dilandau's eyes that brightened almost reddish irises to a deep magenta, had returned. When that spark revitalized, so it seemed, did the rest of Lord Dilandau. He held himself straighter, his chin higher. The weariness that made him drag and slump his shoulders was gone. This was the captain that led Miguel into battle.

"What's the matter Lord Dilandau?" Viole's voice came from behind them. Miguel tilted his head back to see Viole sitting on Lord Dilandau's bed, frowning.

"You can see the mark where that stupid port was," Lord Dilandau said. He turned around, hand hovering just beneath the center of his collarbone. The tunic had a wide v-neck with string on either side that could pull the shirt closed, but most young men wore it open.

"Lord Dilandau, Van won't even see it. Trust me," Viole said with a chuckle.

"_I_ see it!"

Miguel shook his head, eyes going to the pink blemish on Lord Dilandau's skin. One had to be looking for it, or uncomfortably close, to even see it, but Miguel bet Lord Dilandau saw it like someone had run a red paintbrush across his chest.

Celena rose all in one motion, pulling something from her pocket– or rather Lord Dilandau's pocket. Those were his favorite blue breeches. Miguel wondered what Lord Dilandau would do when he noticed.

She stopped in front of Lord Dilandau, and Miguel held his breath. It was always a little–for lack of a better word–creepy, when the siblings stood so close. Their postures and body languages were identical. A silver chain with a small similarly colored medallion dangled from Celena's sturdy hands. She unsnapped it, then fastened it around Lord Dilandau's neck. The jewelry rested against his skin, the medallion falling to cover the still healing incision.

Lord Dilandau looked down at it, then up at Celena. "This is Allen's."

"I swiped it. He wasn't wearing it."

"Maybe he was going to, thief," Lord Dilandau said, but his tone lacked bite. "Thanks."

Celena smiled. "Hey, that's what big sisters are for."

"Shut up! We're twins. You aren't..."

"As I recall, I came out first, making me older than you."

"By minutes!"

"Still older, and that makes you the baby," Celena said with a superior air. She laughed when Lord Dilandau shoved her, stumbling back a few steps and flopping back on her buttocks beside Miguel. "So, do you know what all this evening of elegance entails?"

Lord Dilandau pulled a gray cloak with a black belly from the wardrobe, shaking it out and eyeing it for imperfections. "No. Miguel and Viole won't tell me."

"Gaddes has your event programs. I hand drew them." Viole sounded

proud.

"And thus he proves why he is worthy to be a Dragonslayer," Celena said dryly.

Miguel cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. Miguel was sure Celena didn't dislike Viole, but she made it clear that she hadn't chosen him for the team. She made it clear that she hadn't chosen Shesta, Dallet and Guimel either. Dallet took it in stride, but the others seethed.

"Viole proved his worth years ago when I selected him, Celena. Do remember that, and shut up." The cloak was thrown over one shoulder as Lord Dilandau glared at Celena. Miguel could feel the electricity crackling between the twins.

"Hey, hey guys. Van's probably ready by now. We should go get him. Ok?" Viole came to stand by Miguel, his face pale. "Don't fight here."

Miguel rose, wanting bite his nails at the notion that he might have to get between the twins. If there was a downside to Lord Dilandau's recovery, it was the fact that the stronger he got the less gentle Celena was with him. She was mama bear only when it came to protecting Lord Dilandau from others, not herself. They hadn't come to blows yet, but Miguel feared the day they might, mainly because it would probably be over one of them–a Slayer.

Celena was the first to break eye contact, smirking and tossing her head. "Can't keep his highness waiting, now can you, Dilan? You should go, before Allen remembers he forgot to replace your nightlight and comes back."

She left the room, but Miguel knew she was waiting outside the door for them. He touched Lord Dilandau's arm, feeling the tense muscles. "Lord Dilandau?"

"It's fine," Lord Dilandau whispered, closing his eyes. When he opened them, the anger was gone. Amazing. Miguel had never seen Lord Dilandau calm down so quickly. Lord Dilandau glanced at Miguel, and offered him a tiny smile. "I'm fine."

I'm fine. Lord Folken fixed Lord Dilandau. Everything in his system that made him overreact had been cleansed by Lord Folken and Dr. Marie's previous drug therapies and the marrow that remedied the dangerous side effects of the drugs. There would be no more almost heart-attacks and tranquilizers. No one was surprised that Lord Dilandau still angered over spilled milk and would rather draw a sword than talk to an enemy, that was his personality, but there would be no more random rampages. Not for Lord Dilandau anyway.

Miguel wasn't so sure about Celena. He joined her outside the door as Lord Dilandau sat to put on his boots and Viole asked if he wanted to carry a short sword or dagger in his belt.

"I don't know why I keep doing it."

Miguel almost jumped when Celena spoke to him. She had her back against the wall beside the door; she stared at the ceiling. "Pissing him off, I mean. Yeah, it's fun, but I keep pushing it too far– with everyone."

Miguel leaned on the opposing wall, on the other side of the door. "Don't talk about Viole like that."

"It was a joke."

"They don't come off as jokes when _you_ make them," Miguel said simply. "You're making more enemies than friends."

"I don't know what they want from me. Dallet and Gatty are easy. I can't read the other ones. I never would have thought Shesta would be hard to read. When exactly did he stop being a pansy-ass?"

Miguel stiffened. "He never was. Shesta's not one to cross. Lord Dilandau always knew that. How did you miss it, while he was pointing it out to you?"

Celena snorted. "Sometimes Dilan didn't know what was best, or I thought he didn't. It's hard to be wrong, Miguel."

Miguel nodded in agreement. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Celena watching him. Viole said he felt like a mouse under a cat's gaze when she did this. Miguel felt he was being sized up, but not for a meal. Celena's eyes often rested on him, following him when he strapped on his sword after hours. It had taken a week or so for her to challenge him to a spar.

She was a magnificent partner. It was almost like fighting Lord Dilandau, only her moves weren't so graceful. Celena was all about strength and force when she fought, and Miguel found himself on the floor with her blade to his neck more than once. By all means, he should be horrified by losing to a woman, but Celena wasn't only a woman to him.

There was shuffling near the door and Lord Dilandau came out, followed by Viole. "Ready. So, are you guys going to carry me in a feathery palanquin or can I walk?"

"Dammit, Miguel. I told you we should have ordered that hot pink palanquin with the frills and bows," Viole said, sounding so remorseful Miguel did a double-take. Viole batted his lashes innocently. "I can carry you, if you want."

Lord Dilandau tapped the short sword at his waist. "Don't make me draw. Let's go."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Viole chirped, falling into step with Lord Dilandau as they passed Miguel and Celena. Miguel moved to follow but glanced back at the blond girl. He raised a brow, silently asking her if she was coming.

Celena remained slumped against the wall, her look saying she wasn't sure if she wanted.

"Celena, stop being a bitch and see me and my date to the door like a good big sister."

Lord Dilandau did not stop walking. Celena glared at his back, but pushed off the wall, joining Miguel. They made a curious procession down the hall with Viole babbling about breath spray and onions put in various dishes. Miguel was always amazed at how Lord Dilandau managed to keep his composure when Viole went into motor-mouth mode. He later learned that Lord Dilandau was a master at tuning others out while keeping a menial amount of attention on the conversation, so that he could pick up on his name and 'Are you listening to me?'. He said that he had a lot of practice with Lord Folken.

Gatty and Shesta were waiting by the hangar doors, all grins and cheek. They gave Lord Dilandau punches in the shoulder and made jokes about Van being nervous. Apparently, the boy king had come down to the hangar several times in the last hour in different outfits.

"Why is he so nervous? It's not a blind date," Lord Dilandau grumbled, but chuckled with Gatty, Shesta and Viole all the same. Miguel inwardly seethed. This date was his and Viole's present to Lord Dilandau. It was understood that everyone wanted to see Lord Dilandau off, but Miguel still felt like the others were mooching off their gift. He and Viole hadn't hung around when the others were handing out gifts.

"Eh, you know Van. He's probably nervous about embarrassing himself in front of people who don't know how well he wields a sword," Gatty said. "He's not exactly fancy suit and dinner material."

"I'm really not either, but I think this will be fun." Lord Dilandau caught Miguel's eye and Miguel smiled.

"It's going to be great." Viole pushed the door to the hangar open and Gatty and Shesta ushered Lord Dilandau inside.

The Crusade had been washed, the wood waxed and its sails new. Guimel and Dallet sat on the ramp that led up to the deck, arguing about something and throwing a soiled red rag at each other. They stood when they saw Lord Dilandau.

"The man of the hour! Come 'ere! Let's see what you got on. Old Van might want to change again if his colors don't match yours."

"Hey, shut up!" Van appeared behind Guimel and Dallet, and came down the ramp to meet Lord Dilandau. Van wore a collared maroon tunic with a black belt and black slacks. The jeweled hilt of a long sword peeped from a fine leather scabbard that tapped Van's thigh. Miguel was impressed. The boy king cleaned up nice. He wore his black hair slicked back behind his ears and had his royal crest on his ring finger. Miguel didn't know Fanelians had jewelry, but he was sure the peasants–citizenry–of Fanelia could spare a few ears of corn to make sure their royalty looked the part– some of the time. Probably had it imported, or maybe Van had it made in Astoria. Either way, the ruby with the golden insignia looked good on Van's hand.

"You're wearing the shirt." Van fingered a blue-silver sleeve.

"Yeah, I figured this was a special occasion," Lord Dilandau said, "since we're both clear that this is a date."

Van blushed and scratched the back of his head. "Yeah. So, uh, Miguel and Viole set up the navigation room with fluffy armchairs and snacks and stuff. You want to...?"

Lord Dilandau rolled his eyes and flicked Van's forehead. "Enough with the nervous stuttering. You're acting like we haven't been together for a month."

"We have and we haven't. This is our first time making it completely public. I want to get it right for you."

"There's your problem. I do believe another person other than myself is on this date too. Everything's not on your shoulders, King Fanel, no matter how hard you try to make it be. The only way you can get it wrong for me is to keep acting like a sweaty-palmed first-timer."

Miguel wanted to clap for Lord Dilandau. Van Fanel stood on the deck of the Crusade, blinking in shock while Lord Dilandau stood at the top of the ramp. Guimel and Dallet stood off to the side; Guimel pocketing a couple of coins from Dallet.

Van tossed his head back and laughed after a minute and grabbed Lord Dilandau by the arm, pulling him onto the deck. He threw an arm around Lord Dilandau, and, for the first time, Miguel noticed that...

"Holy moly! Van grew!" Viole shouted.

Van and Lord Dilandau were eye to eye. Lord Dilandau raised a brow. "Van?"

"Hm?"

"I hope you have another pair of boots stashed aboard this ship, because I will not be seen in public with you in platforms."

"Eh? Ah, come on. I'm tired of being the short one."

"Then grow!"

Even Miguel had to laugh at that. This would be a present to remember indeed. Lord Dilandau and Van would dine at _Jaber's_, a five star seafood restaurant that sat on stilts overlooking the ocean. They'd be served exotic, imported fruits and vegetables as well as the fresh catch of the day.They would then be escorted in a carriage to the shopping district to sightsee and purchase souvenirs, and the night would end with a theatrical production. Miguel and Viole had voted against anything with romance in it and chose an interactive mystery-suspense theater, and tipped the Players to pay special attention to the couple in the second row. 'You'll know them when you see them. Trust us. Lord Dilandau's hard to miss.'

Dallet and Guimel leapt from the deck to join the others as they waved Lord Dilandau and Van off. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do!" Dallet called.

_As if that left anything out_.

"Hey, when it's time, open your mouths!"

Guimel yelped as six fists came down on his head.

The Crusade rolled out of the hangar as its engines started to roar. Great gusts of wind blew Miguel back into Celena, who rammed into Viole, who rammed into Shesta... Needless to say, they all fell. Miguel glanced around quickly to see who saw and flushed at the guffaws. Soldiers and mechanics hooted at the Slayer pile up, whistling and giving mock cat-calls. It was amazing how quiet and invisible they were when Lord Dilandau and Van had been there. Probably because they knew Miguel and the others would have rounded them up and thrown them out. There was nothing like perverted soldiers to spoil a romantic– well maybe not romantic– but a moment anyway.

"So, what do we do now? It'll be hours before they get back and we can pump Lord Dilandau for the goods," Viole said.

"We should get dinner," Shesta said. Miguel gazed at Lord Dilandau's windblown second-in-command. He'd been looking worn lately, stretched thin, but tonight his light blues sparkled. "This is the first night we've had in a while where we don't have anything scheduled to do."

"Group dinner?" Gatty asked. He looked at everyone, including Celena. Gatty was really trying to make the girl part of the group, and he made himself easier to read for Celena.

"Sounds good. Sounds really good, actually. I'm freakin' starving," Guimel said, twisting to pop his back.

"Yeah, hard work does that to people," Dallet said, ruffling Guimel's curls, then ducking Guimel's fists.

"Any ideas on where to go?" Shesta asked.

Miguel glanced at his teammates, his friends. They all looked so different now, not quite adults, but not boys either. War had aged, but not crippled them. Once bright, eager eyes ready for experience were now calm, clear eyes, full of knowledge. No wonder people bowed their heads slightly when they passed. No wonder why so many counted on them to help fix Astoria. They were more than Lord Dilandau's elite team now; they were Astoria's elite team, dignified gentlemen.

And dignified gentlemen should dine at, "Lady Chastity's."

Guimel groaned and Dallet pretended to choke. "Not that froo-froo joint where we gotta wear cummerbunds and eat with the right utensils!"

"You guys owe me a dinner," Miguel said flatly.

"Yeah, but we want to eat not play 'guess what the hell is this stuff'!"

Miguel grunted and glared, his illusion of dignified gentlemen melting. He thought they'd reached another level in their development, that they had become more than they were.

"But I guess we do owe you a dinner, Miguel." Miguel froze as Dallet offered him a fist to tap, Guimel too. He met both fists, then let his hands fall to his sides.

An arm went around his neck. "Uh-oh, I think we broke him, guys."

Miguel laughed, bowing his head and leaning on Viole as the boy pulled him closer. "What did I tell you, Miguel?" he whispered.

If he didn't think any sound from his mouth might have been a sob at the moment, he would have hissed at Viole to shut up. As it was, all he could do was breathe.

Many arms went around him then, patting his back or ruffling his hair.

"Geez, if I would have known all it took to make Prince Miguel happy was a fancy dinner, I would have done it a long time ago," Guimel cracked. He stood close to Miguel, his scent of mint soap and sweat making Miguel's nostrils flare.

Miguel raised his head to amused stares from his friends and put on his game face. Prince Miguel, huh? "Of course, all of you will have to bathe and change into something presentable before we go, especially you, Guimel. You smell like a..."

"Man!" Guimel finished. "It's better than smelling like peaches and apricots, girly boy! And don't you laugh Vi; you smell like a girl too."

Viole sputtered and Miguel laughed. "Women like peaches and apricots, Guimel. Why do think so many eat out of my hands? Don't think I haven't noticed my depleting repertoire of cologne."

It was Guimel's turn to sputter.

Miguel led the group out of the hangar, smiling as each person passed him en route to their room to wash up and change. Celena hung by him, walking him to his door.

"I suppose I'm invited too, right?"

Miguel nodded. "I don't think Gatty would have it any other way, and... I don't think I would either. You're a part of this group, whether we like it or not."

Celena scowled, blue eyes electric. "What the f–"

"But, you know, I think I may like it."

They stared at each other, Celena, for once, with nothing smart to say.

"So, ah, we'll spar after this?"

Miguel chuckled. "Yes." He wouldn't miss a chance to spar with Celena, day or night.

She ran a hand through her curls, teasing the fluffy ends. Golden tipped lashes caught the light and full pink lips parted. Something warmed inside Miguel, and he felt the urge to move closer to her, to the one who was more than a woman to him.

What was it about her? She was beautiful, but Miguel knew many beautiful women. She was proud, but growing up as he did, Miguel knew those sort of women too. It couldn't be her manners because they were atrocious, or her turn of phrase, which could be more vulgar than Dallet's or Guimel's at their worst. Her fighting skills were excellent, but Miguel was surrounded by good fighters. Only, he wanted to fight with her.

Was that it? Was he attracted to her strength?

Miguel stepped closer and Celena smiled, revealing even white teeth. "So, is what I have on ok? Because I already had a shower yesterday, and I don't feel like getting wet again just to change clothes. And does this Chastity place have finger food? I want drumsticks."

The woman wiped her nose with the back of her hand, waiting for Miguel's response.

Miguel stared. Well, if it was strength he was attracted to, maybe Lord Dilandau had the right idea and Miguel should be looking for a man. There were plenty of single nobleman in the castle, after all.

He shook his head at Celena and went into his room, closing and locking the door behind him. He went to his wardrobe to choose an outfit for Chastity's, wondering if he should pick out one for Celena too and let her keep it. Miguel tossed clothes onto the bed, and after a second thought, he tossed himself onto the bed too. He lay on his side on satin trousers, fingering his bedspread with a soft smile.

Lord Dilandau wasn't the only one getting something from his good friends that night. Maybe Miguel would have stories to tell of the night too.

Prince Miguel, a member of Astoria's elite, dining with gentlemen...

Banging at the door. "Hey Miguel, open up! I wanna use some of your girly spray. Yasmine from the laundry room wants ten minutes with me!"

... well, as close to gentlemen as his friends could get anyway. Some people were hopeless, but Miguel was finally all right with it.

"Just a minute, Guimel."

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Author's Note: So... what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Any way, let me know. Please review :)

Viole, Allen and Folken are up next.

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	38. Chapter 32: Part 3 of 3

Author's Note: And here it is, Part 3 of 3. I want to take this time out to say thank you to everyone who's ever reviewed this story or glanced at it. I especially want to say thank you to those of you who have held on with me until the end. It has been a LONG, slow journey. I also want to say thank you to my wonderful beta reader, Cat :).

I hope you guys enjoy the last installment of the LAST chapter; ( Wow, the last) one more Miguel one-shot and a short epilogue is to follow. Please keep an eye out for them, and also, please remember to tell me what you think at the end of this. :)

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Chapter 32: Part 3

"They're going to kill us. You know this right?" Viole lay on his back in the damp grass, staring up at the sky. Something hard hit the ground beside him and he tilted his head back. It was weird to have to look down to look up. Lord Dilandau was perched on a high, thick branch of an apple tree, juggling two golden orbs.

Viole scowled. How dare Lord Dilandau throw unripe fruit at him? He couldn't even eat it. It wasn't Viole's fault that Lord Dilandau didn't know where the hell he was going and got them lost. Lord Dilandau had been the one to tell Lord Folken he was going to the library in town, and then dragged Viole on a hunt for a mythical strawberry patch–mythical because Viole was starting to doubt its existence. Lord Dilandau said he and Celena and Sir Allen used to visit a strawberry patch owned by one of their mother's friends, and swore he knew where it was better than Celena did. Viole wondered if Celena was as lost as they were somewhere outside of Astoria's borders.

They'd started seeing signs for Angeline, a harbor city in a neighboring country an hour ago, then found the apple trees. At least they wouldn't starve to death. They hadn't packed lunches; Lord Dilandau said that would look too suspicious and besides, they would eat strawberries– mythical strawberries.

"They can't kill us for going out, unless we're gone all day. We can be back before nightfall." Lord Dilandau reclined on the branch, back against the tree's trunk and feet crossed.

Viole frowned and turned over onto his stomach. Looking at Lord Dilandau upside down was making him dizzy. "If you say so, sir. But–"

"Viole."

"Yeah?"

"Don't do that anymore." Lord Dilandau turned his head a bit to look down at Viole.

"Do what?" Viole hadn't done anything– well, not anything that he could think of. He bet Miguel could have pointed out some things to him.

"Call me 'sir' when it's just us, when we're out having fun. It's... it feels strange now, off, and I'd really like it if you'd just call me by my name without the title," Lord Dilandau said.

It didn't feel strange to Viole, partly because he was used to acknowledging Lord Dilandau's status and mostly because he felt Lord Dilandau deserved to be properly addressed. He was a great man who wasn't even a man yet. Viole liked calling him "Lord" and "Captain" and having older guys turn to look, wanting to know who that guy was that other people looked at with such respect. If Viole started calling him just 'Dilandau', even if it was only in private, it would take away some of the specialness. Titles were earned. Viole didn't want to take Lord Dilandau's trophy.

"I think it'll help me fit in better with you guys. I mean, we have a lot of fun and we've all gotten so close, but I still feel a division between me and you guys that I don't want to be there, not during 'friend time'. I want to separate work and play completely, Viole. Some people say it because they don't want people to bring play to work; I don't want to bring work to play."

Viole frowned and pushed himself up into a sitting position. "You feel distant from us when we're together?" Viole was confused. Lord Dilandau got love from so many angles he chafed at the attention. They fought over who spent time with him, who brought him things, who got to call him best friend. Back on the Vione, there was a wall, but after the Vione, there wasn't. Hell, the wall was gone sooner than that. The wall had come down when Celena was removed. She'd been the barrier. She was trying to make herself a barrier again.

Was it her fault? She was pushing to be part of the group and Gatty, Dallet and Miguel were letting her. Miguel... had a freakin' crush– a crush! Miguel denied it with every fiber of his being, but Viole knew a crush when he saw one.

"Celena says I should leave things as they are. That I should always feel a slight difference between us. Everything I've ever learned says there has to be space between us, but not everything I learned is right. You guys proved that. We've become a closer knit team, since...since the Vione. You all proved you would die for me, but the reason why has changed from then to now."

Viole nodded. It was true. Viole would have died for a commanding officer he worshiped back then, now he would die for a best friend he loved like a brother.

"If our relationship is different, and we're certainly behaving like it's different– I mean look at us." Lord Dilandau sat up and straddled the branch. "We're goofing off, hopelessly lost, and teasing each other about it. We're... Viole, we're kids. I'm a kid."

Viole wanted to laugh. He would have if Lord Dilandau didn't look so serious. Lord Dilandau's jaw trembled at bit and Viole twisted his hair around his index finger. It hit him, like a steel bar in the back. Lord Dilandau had stated the obvious about his physical condition. He was 15 years old, hardly an adult in society's eyes, but mentally, Lord Dilandau had to be older to do his job.

Viole moved to stand under Lord Dilandau's branch, squinting to get a better look at his face. Lord Dilandau's eyes were bright; they caught the sun and blazed red for a moment. "I never got to be one before all this, you know? Everything was life and death; training or battle. I never had fun. I couldn't take afternoons off. I didn't have friends. I wasn't supposed to want any of that, anyway. I was made to eat, sleep, and be the perfect soldier. If eating and sleeping could be eliminated, all the better. I wasn't supposed to be a person."

"L..."

Lord Dilandau chuckled darkly. "Celena was the one they should have used if they wanted that. She lives to fight. There's nothing else for her. Now, don't get me wrong, I like fighting too, but more for the excitement of combating skilled opponents. I like to win. I like to see swords clash and fire and strength. I love coming up with strategies and watching them come into play, and ordering people around. But Celena gets off on the kill. She likes blood. She's the one that would keep following orders and fight forever. She'd never bite at her masters so long as she was in action. She... doesn't think. Ironically, what made her perfect for Zaibach's purposes also made her unsuitable. They needed a leader, not just a soldier."

"Lord..."

"They tried to get rid of the parts of me that wanted to do anything other than fight and win. They thought they could kill what made me different from her in mentality, and they almost did. And then, there was you guys. You were afraid of me, you worshiped me, but you always tried to make me feel welcome, no matter how mean I was."

Lord Dilandau's voice grew soft and Viole shut his eyes, clenching his fists. Why was Lord Dilandau thinking about all this? It was hurting him and making Viole angry. Their next mission, after putting Astoria back together, was hunting up any renegade Madoushi and giving them the slowest, most pain-filled deaths any manual on torture could offer. They'd made Lord Dilandau feel like a tool; they'd treated him like a damn Alseid they'd built from scratch and reprogrammed at will.

Viole started to climb the tree.

"I guess when you call me 'Lord' and 'sir' while we're having fun, it makes me remember when we weren't on such good terms. I remember that I'm your leader and you'd let me order you to your deaths without complaint. I remember my old lessons, and start feeling like what I'm doing is wrong. I don't want to think about being leader or wrong, while we're goofing off, lost, and teasing each other. I just want to be kids, Vi. Kids aren't formal."

As Viole neared Lord Dilandau's branch, Lord Dilandau scooted forward. Viole pulled himself up and straddled the branch too, facing Lord Dilandau's back. "You really think all that when you're with us?"

"Not all the time. Not when we're laughing and throwing things at each other and no one's calling anyone by their given name." Lord Dilandau's shoulders slumped. "I just... is it too much to ask? I don't want to feel a gap between us, but that can't stop you from feeling one. Maybe you'll always feel it anyway, even if I don't, so there is no point. Or maybe you want a difference. I didn't ask you about that."

Viole placed his hands on Lord Dilandau's shoulders and pulled himself close enough to rest his chin on one of his hands. "I don't feel a difference between us. I haven't for a while. No one does. You're our leader. We'll follow you anywhere, but we'd do it for our best friend too. You're special to all of us. Your title, it makes us proud to call you that. We like when other people hear us say it and look at you like we do. You deserve it."

"But..."

"It alienates you at the same time." Viole sighed and squeezed Lord Dilandau's shoulders. He was still so skinny, but he was slowly gaining back lost weight and muscle. "I can see how you feel set apart. We do set you apart, but not like you think. We don't feel like you're boss and that we can't truly relax around you. You're the unbelievably cool guy everyone wants to be. We can't understand why you want to hang around us losers, but you do."

Lord Dilandau sighed and leaned back, resting against Viole. Viole draped his arms around Lord Dilandau's waist, hands meeting beneath Lord Dilandau's hollow belly and resting on the bark between their legs.

"If you guys are losers, then I'm a loser too. I want to be included in whatever terms you use to define yourselves with. I'm not cool and no one wants to really be me, Viole. So, stop. When we're off duty, I'm a loser too, got it?"

Viole tossed his head back and laughed. He would have tipped backward if he wasn't hanging onto Lord Dilandau. Who the hell wanted to be called a loser, when someone told him he was the King of Cool? Only Lord Dilandau. Viole tightened his arms for a moment, hugging Lord Dilandau. He was... such a kid, more a kid than Viole and the others, really. Lord Dilandau was never allowed to be childish and innocent or cute. It was like he was starting from the beginning, from now. So, in a way, he was younger than them. He was as Celena called him, "Little Brother".

Celena called Lord Dilandau by the nickname, because technically she was older, and because she knew it got on his nerves. But...maybe that wasn't all. Maybe she called him Little Brother, because he lacked the experience needed to be a Big Brother. He knew war games and melefs, but he didn't know life stuff. But if Celena called Lord Dilandau 'Little Brother' according to those specifications, she was a hypocrite. From what Viole knew of Celena, she didn't know much about life stuff either. But the difference between Lord Dilandau and Celena was Lord Dilandau wanted to know...and Viole wanted to show him.

"You'll never be a loser. Got that?" Viole said. "None of us are losers, actually. We're too kick-ass for that. Well, some of us are anyway. Miguel may have to sit out, because he folds his napkins like a girl."

"So do you."

Viole huffed. "I do not! And– and anyway, we're not talking about me. We'll talk to the others when we get back and I bet you they'll say the same thing I'm about to say right now. You're one of us, we love and respect you, and we don't feel a wall. If losing the titles helps you, then we'll lose the titles. You want to feel like a part of the group and we want you to feel like a part of the group, because you are... Dilandau."

Lord–Dilandau shifted in Viole's hold. "That's better already."

"Really? Hey, is Dilan, ok too? Or Landau? I may not like Celena, but the nicknames are cool."

Dilandau shuddered. "So long as you don't call me Lil' B, I'm ok."

"Lil' B?" Viole chuckled. He hadn't heard that one.

"I don't know where she gets these names. She claims Hitomi gave her some ideas before she went back to the Mystic Moon. Of all the things to share with my stupid sister."

"So you guys have all really been getting along, huh. Like a real family."

Dilandau nodded. "I thought it would be weird, but it's not. My memories of the past are still fuzzy, but when Allen or Celena start to tell a story, I remember it too. I still don't remember everything that happened in Zaibach, but Celena says that's probably for the best. There's nothing good there."

"You remember everything about us though, right? The things you don't remember clearly were when you were younger?" Viole asked. Dilandau had to remember everything they did together.

Dilandau was quiet.

"S– er– Dilan?"

"Viole. I wish I can say that I do. I can't."

Viole sagged. His eyes stung and he blinked rapidly to keep in tears. Was Dilandau saying that he didn't truly remember them? "What about the first time I blocked you and made you step back? Or knocked Miguel's sword out of his hand? What about when I got the best flight score in the bunch and you promoted me to First String?"

Dilandau let more of his weight rest against Viole. "I remember some of it, Vi. I remember when I first saw you and said I wanted to give you a chance. I remember appointing partners, and Miguel requesting for me to pair you two."

Viole stiffened; tears forgotten. "Miguel what?"

"Miguel asked for you. He identified you as a noble right away, and thought you two would be perfect partners. He wasn't getting along too well with the others at that time."

"He... how did he know? I made up the background in my file. According to it, I'm a farmer's son. I thought they all found out because I'd let it slip after a while and word got out. I don't really remember telling anyone in particular. I know the cadets say they can tell my background by my manner, but Miguel? On the first day? Huh?"

Dilandau snickered. "It was your penmanship."

"Wh..."

"Your pretty cursive gave you away. Miguel took one look at your dainty signature and knew he had a potential ally."

Viole snorted and rested his chin on Dilandau's shoulder again. He smiled lightly, inhaling the sharp scent of greenery that contrasted with the sweet scent of ripening apples. His handwriting had given him away. There were so many little things that gave others insight on personal backgrounds. Trying to hide from the people you were closest too couldn't work. There were too many details to smother, too many details to forget.

"You'll get your memories back."

"Hm?"

"Celena was wrong. There is some good stuff in your Zaibach memories, too much of it for you to really forget it _all_. Something will trigger it." We'll tell stories too and make you remember.

"I hope so, Viole. I really want to remember you, all of you. I've got you, Miguel, Shesta, Guimel, Gatty and Dallet here with me, but the others... I want complete memories of them."

Viole nodded. "I'll help you. I'll tell you everything I know about everyone and we'll see what you can add to it. It's not quite the Celena/Allen approach, but..."

"It's better. I... probably don't have stories about some of them. For the ones I do remember, I know I didn't get to know them as well as I should have. I tried to pay equal attention to everyone, but with training and the Emperor, and the Madoushi and trying not to go completely crazy, I played favorites and delegated a lot of responsibilities. I'd take it back, Viole. Tristan or Brian didn't deserve to be any less known than Refina or Ryuuon."

"Buddy, you can't expect to remember and know everybody you meet. Some needed more attention, some shied away from it; you knew everyone who made an effort to know you. You gave attention to who asked for it and to those who so desperately needed it. You couldn't be everywhere, which is why you have Gatty and Shesta. Even they can't truthfully account for everybody. I can't either and I'm the social bunny. When we play memory plug-in, you're going to find me lacking too. We might have to go to outside sources. Might take all of us."

"But you and me will try to see what we can get first, right? I... I don't want the others to know about this yet. In fact, I might not want them to know, if they don't have to, Vi. If this can be..."

"Between us?" Viole grinned. "Sure. I don't mind. You know you can trust me. We'll see what we can do first and pool our resources if we suck. How's that?"

"Good." Dilandau tilted his head back onto Viole's shoulder to peer at him. "Did I ever thank you for being so nice to me, Viole?"

"Nice?" Viole laughed. "Whatever. You'd help me with this stuff, if I was having problems. It's what friends– "

"Viole, I'm not talking about this. Thank you for this, I mean, but I'm talking about another time, _that_ other time. The time I asked you to do something no one should ask somebody else, and you said you'd do it."

Something caught in Viole's throat and he pushed Dilandau away from him to cough. Damn that Shesta. His eyes watered and he swallowed. _'That_ other time'. "It wasn't like I actually did what I said I would. You don't have to thank me for anything."

Dilandau flipped around on the branch, so that he was facing Viole. The motions were so quick, Viole barely followed them before he and Dilandau were face to face. "It didn't come to that."

"But if it had..."

"There's no doubt in my mind that you would have been next to me. The fact that you look like a kicked puppy, because you couldn't offer me your tailored clothes to throw up on a few weeks ago says that much."

Viole pouted. "I wanted to be there for you to talk to. You know you don't tell the others _everything_. You wouldn't have had to be so strong all the time with me there. I was supposed to give you a break, but I failed you."

Dilandau snorted. "I know better than you do how we can't fault ourselves because our bodies don't listen. You were sick, and Marie says you got so sick because you were working too hard. I probably wanted you and Shes to rest as much as you wanted to sit with me. I'll tell you, you didn't miss anything spectacular, and you were there to grant me relief from Allen's mothering soon enough."

Sir Allen was a bit much. Viole didn't know if that was just how he was with family, or if the Heavenly Knight felt guilty about how badly he'd treated Dilandau in the beginning. Dilandau had been pretty horrible to Sir Allen too though, so Viole figured they cancelled each other out.

"But still... I just feel awful. I don't like not being able to deliver. I...kinda wanted you to be mad at me for it, but you weren't, you're not."

"Because there's nothing to be mad about. I missed you and all, but I got your notes and comic strips. I was ok. Question is: Are you ok?"

Viole blinked. Maybe. He knew he would never be completely all right with that; it wasn't something he could just get over. His best friend almost died. That was probably it. It wasn't that Viole couldn't be there. Dilandau understood why he couldn't be there. It was the fact that Dilandau really almost died, and Viole would have been there if he did. Red Witch couldn't have kept him out. It was hard to believe the guy smirking at him might not have been there right now, if Sir Allen hadn't stepped in when he did. Viole... he'd never...

Viole threw his arms around Dilandau, giggling at the other boy's surprised gasp. Viole never got to do this and say: "Thank gods you're ok. The nightmare's over."

It was like breathing in fresh mountain air and bathing in a cool spring at the same time. Viole was clean and light. Refreshed. The shadows were all gone and Dilandau was returning his embrace, patting Viole's back gently.

They sat like that for a while, Viole with his head resting on Dilandau's shoulder. "Hey, has Shes done this yet?"

"Two days ago," Dilandau said with a chuckle, "except he went all weepy on me too. I had to order him a cup of tea to calm him down."

Viole laughed. "Well, at least I'm not that bad."

"Hmph. Shesta wasn't bad. You should have seen Gatty and Guimel. Guimel was the worst though. He scared me."

Viole smiled. "He scared a lot of people. Dallet almost took up smoking for a minute there he was so worried, about you and Guimel."

"I'll kick Dallet's ass if I find out he's been smoking," Dilandau said flatly. "Celena smokes."

"What?" They pulled away from each other and sat back.

"Yeah, she rolls her own and smokes with the stable boys. Allen caught her– no, Gaddes caught her and told Allen about it the next morning. It made for an interesting breakfast argument."

Viole shook his head with a smile. The Schezars... it was so weird saying the Schezars knowing Dilandau was included in that circle... fought all the time. They fought over dating and soldier duty as well as favorite colors and locations of strawberry patches. It seemed to be the way they expressed their love for one another. Viole never realized how much Sir Allen was like his siblings until Viole had joined them for a meal one day. Viole would have known Sir Allen and Lord Dilandau were related a long time ago, if he'd spent more time with the Knight. But back then, things were different. It was sort of nice, learning more about the people who'd been in his face for months.

He still might not like them all, but it was a good start for a new period in his life. He was still a soldier, still a clown, still a friend, but now he felt he'd also found his place and it was time to build. "Shes finally heard something on the Surfside Players."

"Hm?"

"Yeah," Viole said. "He was able to find a translator for one of his non-common speaking clients, and the woman said she'd seen someone fitting Heather's description with a group of entertainers heading North a week ago."

"So, she may still be out there."

Viole nodded. "Yup, and she knows where I'm going to be for a while yet, so... I'm happy."

"That's good."

They kicked their legs and watched the sun falling in the sky. Their two borrowed horses grazed and whinnied lightly, probably anxious to get moving again. Imagine them, Viole and Dilandau, once members of Zaibach's most feared team of specialists, being lazier than horses.

"We're going to be in so much trouble when we get back," Dilandau said.

"Yeah," Viole agreed. "Are we going to go straight back from here or keep looking for the strawberries?"

"We've come this far. I'd hate to get in trouble empty handed. Might as well make it worth their effort and ours."

"Hm." Viole rubbed his hand on the black bark of the branch. "Think they'll come after us in melefs or the Crusade?"

"Both," Dilandau said evenly. "Allen and Van in melefs. Allen's crew plus Shesta, Miguel and Gatty on the Crusade. Dallet and Guimel will stay behind in case we come back before the parties find us. Folken and Marie... well, they've been a bit busy as of late. I doubt they know we're gone; though, if they're wondering Pearce could probably pinpoint our exact location for them. Creepy bastard."

"Basically, strawberries or no strawberries we're screwed?"

"Basically."

"Hell, then let's find those strawberries, and get dinner in Angeline while we're at it. I hear they have great seafood. I know you don't like meat, but you have to try prawns. They're great cooked or raw. My sister, Violet, turned me onto them."

Dilandau raised a brow. "Violet?"

"Yeah, she's the oldest. Lets see, there's Violet, Veronica, Vivian, Valerie, Verruca, Vanessa, and Viola, or as I liked to call them: Violent, Vindictive, Vicious, Volatile, Venomous, Voracious, and Vile."

"Any of them a match for Celena?"

"Oh, I believe one or two of them make Celena look like Susie Sunshine. They're awful! All of them!"

Dilandau laughed. "Tell me more."

"Only if you tell me more about Miguel choosing me to be his partner. I can't wait to rub that in his face!"

* * *

Allen wanted to yell stop, but as worried as he was, he couldn't help but be awed by the level of skill his siblings displayed as they sparred. Their previous guymelef battles looked like child's play compared to this.

The twins circled each other with long swords, waiting for the other to give an opening for the dance to begin again. Celena would attack first. She always did. She didn't have the patience to wait for Dilandau to make the first move. Dilandau, on the other hand, could wait out a woman getting ready for an evening out. The strategy was brilliant against Celena, whose eyes narrowed every second Dilandau didn't make a move towards her. She was getting frustrated and it made her movements choppy and rasher than usual.

Celena might have had a small advantage of strength over Dilandau with this being the first time he'd sparred whole-heartedly in over a month, but Dilandau was using it against her. His moves were blocks and feints, no outright attacks. He was tiring Celena out. Blocks and feints against strong down-strikes and thrusts that could have gutted Dilandau, if he hadn't predicted them, wouldn't have been very impressive coming from other soldiers. But Celena wielded her sword like a man twice her age with a lifetime of experience, so, to block anything she threw, deserved a standing ovation. Allen wouldn't admit it aloud, but he didn't know if _he_ could block everything she threw.

The Slayers and Van stood on the other side of the spar, watching with their mouths slightly agape. Judging from their expressions, Allen was beginning to think that neither Dilandau nor Celena had ever showed this caliber of skill to them. Maybe they hadn't shown it to anyone. After all, this was their first face-to-face spar, in their own separate bodies no less. They both had something to prove to the other.

Celena wanted to prove that she was as good as—no, that she was better than Dilandau, knowing her. Dilandau—was a perfectionist, like Allen; he was reminding his friends and Van why they followed him.

There were a few gasps in the room from the twenty-five wide-eyed cadets sitting on the floor near the windows of the old ballroom turned training hall. The boys watched, eyes glittering with excitement, pumping fists and drumming on their legs. They were really getting a show. The ones that hadn't run off to war without permission from their teachers were finally being rewarded. At the end of this fight, Dilandau would be deemed fit for duty, and regular classes, containing only the boys present, would begin.

Folken, Dr. Marie and Pearce stood beside Allen. Folken looking apprehensive, Dr. Marie looking amused, and Pearce looking…like Pearce. Strangely, the more time Allen spent around Pearce the less it seemed Allen knew about the man. Wherever did Folken find such a follower and how had they all come to know Dr. Marie?

Zaibach must have been full of odd characters. Talking to the Slayers, Allen learned that most of the people who had populated the Zaibach army were not originally from Zaibach. Zaibach was home to runaways, deserters, and unwanteds. Its Emperor invited all to come with open arms, so he could use and experiment on them at his leisure. Allen ground his teeth as he reminded himself the evil man was dead now.

There were cheers. Allen's eyes snapped back to the fight. Celena lay sprawled on her back with Dilandau's foot on her chest and the tip of his dulled sword at her throat. Allen's brother smirked and his sister scowled, looking mad enough to spit.

"What was that you said about me earlier, Celena? Didn't you say I wasn't a match for you because I was out of shape and my muscles were soft? Well, what does getting your ass kicked by someone as lazy and flabby as me say about you?"

"It says you cheated, you shit. Since when do you go after someone's clothing?"

"Since people keep forgetting to tie their shoes," Dilandau said, tossing a grin in Van's direction. Van rolled his eyes.

"It was a perfectly fair move. You must be aware of your body and surroundings at all times. A soldier uses every advantage given to him. If you would just go and have boots made for yourself instead of swiping mine, you might get a pair that fit without you having to leave the laces undone," Dilandau said.

"Why the hell are your feet smaller than mine? Whoever heard of a boy with smaller feet than his sister's?"

"Who the hell heard of a girl with feet fatter than her brother's?" Dilandau countered. "If you'd lay off the salted pork, maybe your feet would shrink, and maybe you'd stop stretching my damn clothes too! I'm tired of my pants falling off my waist. Oh hey, I got it. If you'd get your own clothes to go along with your own shoes..."

Allen stared. The Slayers and Van were snickering and the cadets were failing to mask their amusement. Were his siblings truly arguing in front of their subordinates? After finishing a spar that would have their cadets singing praises about them for years to come, they ruin it with petty squabbling?

Didn't they get enough of that at the dinner table?

Allen knew he'd had enough of it. Every evening, when Dilandau decided to grace Allen and Celena with his presence, there was a new argument. Sometimes the arguments were valid, such as the issue of clothing. Allen didn't appreciate Celena borrowing his clothes either. Other times, the arguments were ridiculous. The last big one was over the location of Mrs. Mallory's strawberry patch. Those fields had been plowed over years ago, but even if they still existed, Celena and Dilandau wouldn't have found them. If Allen didn't know better, he wouldn't think either of them had any sense of direction. The patch was in the heart of Angeline. Dilandau had gotten the closest to where it would have been, but he was still miles off the mark. Allen could have strangled his brother when he finally found Dilandau and Viole. They were in a bar, gambling. A group of men sat at a table in their underwear, having bet and lost everything on their persons to the boys.

"Hey, hey, Lord Dilandau, Celena, chill."

Allen frowned. He'd always thought Dallet was a little off, but the boy was crazy to put himself between Dilandau and Celena in the middle of a spat while armed with large swords. Dilandau scowled and removed his foot from Celena's chest. He slid his sword back into his sheath and offered Celena a hand.

Celena smacked Dilandau's hand away and struggled to her feet. She tossed her sword behind her, and Allen grimaced at the cracking sound it made when it hit the floor. Celena was a sore loser at everything, and it was understandable. No Schezar liked to lose, but, when it came to swords, a certain amount of respect had to be observed. If they weren't in front of their cadets, Allen would have ordered Celena to pick the sword up and put it away properly.

"Well, it looks like we're going to have to clear the little shit for duty now."

Allen glanced over to see Folken and Dr. Marie with their heads together.

"… just a quick check up after this to make sure he's really all right, then."

A twinge of fear. Dilandau was doing so well. He was full of energy, his appetite was healthy, even if his diet was lacking, and he looked great. Allen could almost forget he had been sick, was sick. It scared him to think that even now, something could still go wrong. Folken and Dr. Marie told Allen rejection was still a possibility up to six months after a transplant, but not to worry too much. They'd tested Celena a week after she'd arrived, and her blood and marrow were a match for Dilandau's too. If Allen's marrow failed, they could try again with Celena's.

Allen never wanted to fail another family member again. So, they were going to do everything right and take every precaution. Allen clenched his hands into fists and relaxed them. One of the precautions was Chid. If Celena's marrow was to fail, they'd need another donor. Chid would need to be tested, meaning Allen would have to tell Celena and Dilandau about Chid. He would end up having to tell a lot of people about Chid and tarnish a lot of images, his, Chid's, the Astorian royal family's, and Duke Freid's.

Allen stood alone as Folken and Dr. Marie moved to join the Slayer circle that surrounded Dilandau, thudding him on the back.

He could hear the cadet's saying things like:

"Great fight! How did you do that move?"

"I didn't know you were that good!"

"I can't believe you beat her like that! She's like a warrior princess!"

"He beat her because she was sloppy."

Allen jumped at the voice in his ear. He turned to face Pearce. Allen hadn't noticed the man still standing there. No one should be that quiet.

"Dilandau made her get sloppy," Allen said. "He didn't win because she was less skilled, he won because…."

"He's smart and he reads his opponents before making his move," Pearce said. "It's a good technique. Not just anyone can do it, and out of those that can, not many do it _that_ well."

Allen nodded, then narrowed his eyes at the pale, cold-eyed man. Many women in the castle found Pearce handsome and Allen supposed he was, but just looking at the man made him shiver. "Are you any good at it?"

Pearce raised a brow. "It's my job to know what people are going to do before they do it."

Allen frowned. The answer was innocent and a bit mysterious; probably given to make Allen blink, but it did more than that. The underlying tone of that statement said something else. "Pearce, is there something you want to tell me?"

Pearce's eyes were veiled as he let his lids slide closed. Pearce was hiding his eyes. The twinge of fear came back. "Pearce?"

"Be careful with the girl."

The girl? "Celena? Why? What have you heard? Is something…."

Pearce's back was to him. Folken and Dr. Marie were coming back, Dilandau between them. The Slayers formed a single file line behind them, still talking about the fight. Allen watched them all march out the door, Dilandau turning a bit to wave at him before he disappeared. Allen would have to congratulate him on his victory later, and maybe challenge him to a private spar. They'd never finished any of the fights they'd had, and Allen wanted to see who might have won.

Allen opened his mouth to call to Pearce again, but the man was gone, vanished with the crowd. Damn him.

"You all right, Allen?" Van placed a hand on his shoulder. The short boy king looked nervous, eyes roving from the slightly ajar door to Allen secondly. Rowdy cadets were getting themselves into lines of five and holding their own practice, testing out the moves they'd seen Dilandau and Celena do.

"Yes."

Celena stood off to the side of the cadets, watching them with a hard expression on her face. The boys called her, "Captain Schezar", asking her to instruct them and she waved them off.

"You had a worried look on your face," Van said. "Dilandau's fine, you know. Folken's just being a mother hen. He's always been like that."

Allen looked down at Van. The boy king was still short, but he stood taller these days. Allen didn't know if he'd actually physically grown, or if it was all mental. Van held his shoulders square, back straight, chin up. Brown eyes shone with pride. Pride at winning a war, pride of country, pride of lineage, pride at…having what he wanted. Van had entered this war as an immature, confused orphan, too skinny to fill his ragged britches. He left it as an experienced, knowledgeable veteran that now knew he had to try his pants on before he bought them. He had a family and friends, and… Allen swallowed… a love interest.

Allen had a hand in raising this boy. He'd thought of him as a little brother, and maybe he still did, but…. Allen took in Van's expression, the way he stared up at Allen, brown eyes displaying some hurt and hope for acceptance. Allen sighed, squeezing the hand Van had on his shoulder. He'd been through too much with Van to push him away now.

Van was a good boy. A really good boy and Allen still cared for him, but….

"Van?"

"Hm?" Van was smiling at Allen's hand on his shoulder, eyes bright.

"Are you sure you don't like Hitomi?"

Van tossed his head back and laughed. "More sure than you were, when you realized you didn't like her. I… Allen, you know how I feel about him. I'm sorry that it changes things between us, but… I can't let him go now. When we're together I feel right, I feel good. I've never felt like this before."

First love. Allen knew the feeling, but gah!

"I wish you could accept us. I know you worry about Dilandau not fully understanding his feelings, but, Allen, he does. If you talk to him about it, you'll know that he does."

Allen's shoulders slumped. He knew that. That's why he didn't talk to Dilandau about it. They were fifteen years old. They weren't supposed to understand those kind of feelings, but they did. "Van, I don't know that I'll ever be ok with anyone my brother or my sister dates to be honest with you. But, I guess I should be grateful that Dilandau's at least dating someone I can trust."

Van blushed. "You know you can trust me, Allen."

Allen nodded. He knew. But… "Know that I will never stop trying to introduce my brother to new things. Girls for instance. There is the Schezar line to think about."

Van scowled a bit, but hid it quickly with a soft smile. "Of course, as I know people will not stop trying to introduce me to new things, girls for instance. There is the Fanel line to think about. But I think Folken's going to more than take care of that. He and Marie are headed for the altar, even if she has to drag him there, literally."

Both Allen and Van laughed at the mental picture of Dr. Marie dragging Folken by the tails of his tux down the aisle. Folken had really gotten himself in trouble with that one. Dr. Marie was pretty to look at, but look was all Allen would do.

Somewhere in their giggles, Van moved closer and Allen wrapped an arm around his shoulders, giving him a light hug and ruffling his hair.

"So, we're friends again?" Van asked, nose in Allen's shirt.

"Yes, we're friends," Allen said, "but don't think I won't kill you if I catch you and Dilandau anywhere with the doors closed or the lights off."

Van chuckled, then glanced up at Allen to see that he was only half-joking. "Uh… ah… I… better go after them. They're probably wondering what happened to me, and suspecting you. I'll…uh… see you."

Allen snorted as Van pulled away from him and practically ran out the door. Silly boy. Allen wondered if he should follow. He did want to hear Folken say that Dilandau was all right for now. He turned to the door.

"Captain Schezar, am I doing it right?"

Celena. Allen almost forgot about her, thinking about Van and Dilandau. The girl remained in the same place she had been in when Dilandau left, still sulking. Allen made his way to her.

"Celena."

"Len." Her voice was flat.

"Your fighting skills are impressive."

"I lost."

Allen blinked. "You weren't paying attention."

"I lost. Even if I had been paying attention, I would have lost. I can't beat him, Len. He didn't even look concerned about fighting me. He knew he was going to win. All he had to do was look at me, then he smirked."

"He psyched you out," Allen said, "but you two are evenly matched."

"When it comes to skill," Celena said gruffly. "He's smarter than me. I can train as hard as I want; I'll get stronger, but not smarter. That's why the Madoushi chose him over me. I was supposed to be the warlord. I wanted it; he didn't, but of course, he's better at it."

Allen frowned at his sister. "Celena…."

"That's how the world works. The guys that don't want it or don't care, are the ones that have talent oozing out of their every pore. Dilan might decide he doesn't want to do this one day, and just leave and it won't matter to him. He'll be equally good at whatever he tries. But me… hah. This is what I got."

Where was all of this coming from? Certainly not from one loss….

"Celena…."

Celena looked at him, light blue eyes glistening… with repressed tears? Allen reached out to pull his little sister to him, but she stepped back. She sniffed and wiped at her eyes with the pads of her thumbs.

"The pollen's really bad today, don't you think?"

"Cel…."

"Captain Schezar, could you help us?"

"Yeah," Celena called, turning her head to finally acknowledge the cadets. "Yeah, I'll be right there. Hey, I got work to do, Len. I might not make it to dinner. Tell Dilan I'll come talk to him before bed, ok?"

"I… yes, I'll tell him, but Cel…."

She walked away from him.

Allen stood, watching his sister straightening lines of trainees and demonstrating stances. He saw a flash of his father in her, in her profile, the set of her jaw.

A flash of the father that had left the family never to be seen again.

"'Be careful with the girl."'

"Be careful with the girl." Allen bit his lip. He could pay more attention to Celena, but when he did, it seemed to drive the girl further away from him. He would try harder though, because Celena was not going to end up like their father.

So, she worried about not being able to do anything but be a soldier and a mediocre one at that? Well, Allen would help her find something else she liked and could be good at. Celena had been raised by monsters to do monster's work, and never allowed to look to other things. Sure, when she was a baby, all she wanted to do was fight, but as she grew older maybe she'd wanted to expand her horizons and could not, then forgot she wanted to.

Celena was right about Dilandau. He could decide to quit being a soldier and had a world of opportunity at his fingertips when it came to picking a new trade. Celena could have that too. Allen would make sure she did.

Like it was Pearce's job to know what people were going to do before they did it, it was Allen's job as a big brother to help his siblings make the right choices and find their way in life.

What a change. He'd been a lonely bachelor with a string of heartbroken women behind him. Now, he was a family man with a string of curses from enraged little brothers and sisters beside him. Did he miss what he had? No. Was he ready to forget the past and look to the future? Maybe.

Was he happy now?

"Sir Allen, Lord Dilandau wants to know if he can have his riding gear back?" Miguel appeared in the doorway.

Allen hesitated. Dilandau getting his riding gear back meant more escapades. Was he ready for that? Gods, would he ever be ready for that?

No, not really, but….

"Yes."

* * *

"...and then he ignored me all morning! All I did was pull out a chair for him. How was I supposed to know he'd take offense to that?"

Folken cleared his throat, hoping the noise masked the chuckle that had escaped. Van glared at him. Well, so much for hoping.

Folken was shelving herbs Princess Millerna had brought in that morning, arranging them according to the type of medicines that could be concocted from them and the symptoms they alleviated, rather than alphabetically as Marie would have done. He knew he would come in the next day to find that the woman had rearranged everything. Sometimes, he didn't know why he bothered.

Van sat behind him in Marie's favorite arm chair, watching Folken work and complaining about his day. Van had been in countless meetings that week and often unloaded on Folken, finding him after meals or late at night. Marie was getting annoyed with Van's frequent visits, but Folken loved them. It was like he was meeting Van all over again. He was no longer the baby that liked to jump into Folken's arms or ride on his back. He was almost a man who wanted to talk about issues that concerned Folken as well.

"How do you know when Marie doesn't like something, if she never tells you she doesn't like it?" Van asked.

Folken placed the last herb on a high shelf, then dusted his hands off on his lab coat. "I don't."

"See, there's no ESP between couples. Dilandau does plenty of stuff that I hate and I don't get huffy."

"Van." Folken closed the door to the storage closet and turned to look at his brother. Van had his knees pulled to his chest with his chin resting on them. "I don't know when Marie doesn't like something, if she doesn't tell me, but I can usually figure it out before I get into too much trouble. You simply study them and the things that happen around them."

"All I do is study Dilandau."

Folken snorted. "You study him, but do you try to make sense of what you learn? I could have told you Dilandau wouldn't appreciate you pulling a chair out for him, or opening doors. Those are things you do for women."

"Geez. Yeah, so guys do it for women, but they could do it for other people too. I was just letting him know I wanted him to sit on that side of me. I wasn't trying to emasculate him or anything. If _he _studied _me_ and made sense of what he learned, he'd know I wasn't trying to do that."

Folken didn't hide his chuckle then. "Van, if you're studying Dilandau, you're failing miserably! He doesn't care that you didn't mean anything degrading by what you did, he cares that other people saw what you did and had degrading thoughts."

Van's mouth dropped open. "Dilandau doesn't care what other people think!"

Folken's shoulders shook with laughter. "Oh, he cares when they think he's the girl in the relationship. Dilandau doesn't care when people think he's mean; he _cares _when the ladies in waiting start asking him to join their quilting circles."

Van flushed and Folken had to grab the table to keep from falling over. He saw Dilandau sitting in that very chair, ranting about young women and old ladies alike patting his hands and wanting to trade relationship tips over tea and apple strudel. Oh gods, Dilandau loved Van dearly to put up with all of that, but honestly if these boys didn't start talking to each other, their relationship would be over before it really started.

And it would be a shame, because they were good for each other.

"He talks to you about this too." Van's voice was soft. Folken stopped laughing and straightened up. "What all does he say? Is he unhappy with me?"

Folken wanted to roll his eyes, but refrained. He came to stand by his brother, resting a hand on the top of his head. "Dilandau's happier with you than he is with anyone else."

"Then why... it's like we'll have good days, and then there's bad days, and sometimes we'll have good days that turn bad. I hate when he's mad at me. Do you and Marie...?"

Folken smirked. "Marie and I bicker all the time. We have ups and downs, and sometimes it seems like mostly downs, because I feel like I don't know what I'm doing and can't give her what she wants. But then I have to realize that what she wants is me, and though I might irritate her, I'm not disappointing her. All relationships have their waves. You prove how good the relationship is by riding them out."

"But what if the waves are too big?"

"Then you decide how good of a swimmer you are. If you're a poor swimmer, you look for land. But Van, you and Dilandau are doing just fine. You're feeling each other out and learning the do's and don't's. When a relationship is new, everything is easier, but as it matures, you have to work at it. Your situations and circumstances are changing, Van. You and Dilandau had your fun while Dilandau was recovering. Now that he's resumed his responsibilities, he's got a public image to maintain, as do you."

"But everyone knows we're together. They know I'll do things, or he'll do things and..."

Folken pulled up a chair. All right. Folken was making this more complicated than it had to be. Van was worried about the fate of his relationship, and Folken wasn't making it better by giving him relationship philosophy. All Van could see was that Dilandau seemed to be mad at him most of the time and Folken was telling him that most people in relationships had to fight everyday to keep their heads above water. Those weren't encouraging words to a young boy courting his first boyfriend, especially since they really hadn't hit waves yet... Unless Van continued being dense. The problem was...

"Van." Folken took his brother's hands. "When you look at Dilandau, what do you see?"

Van's eyes went wide. "Folken!"

Folken widened his eyes to match Van's. "Well?"

Van blushed and looked away. "Gods, I see... He's beautiful, Folken. He's like some statue come to life. I've seen people do triple takes when he passes by, and girls and guys fanning themselves. What does what Dilandau looks like have to do with anything?"

"It has to do with everything, Van. You describe him as beautiful. How many men do you know like to be called beautiful by other men?"

"Ah..." Van looked confused.

"Precisely. Dilandau has to deal with people assuming he's dainty at first glance. He feels he has something to prove to every man that raises a brow at him. So, imagine that you've built up this amazing military status. At fifteen, a king is ready to give you an appointment as general. You've got this small team of soldiers that can take the place of a moderately sized army that lingers on your every word. You'll have a section all about you in history books. The enemy trembles when they hear your name. Now, imagine all of that work undone by someone pulling out your chairs, opening doors, and treating you like the dainty thing you proved yourself not to be."

Van blinked. "I..." He stuttered. "But I... only did it once!"

"I'm sure you've done other little things too, Van. Things he's tried to ignore, but those old ladies asking him to join their tea parties was the last straw. His tough guy reputation is suffering, because it seems to the entire castle that you're taking the role of 'boy' friend."

"I haven't changed! I haven't changed anything! I've always... helped him."

"When he needed it. Van, he's as strong as he ever was now. He doesn't need the extra care. It's sweet. The only reason why he hasn't killed you is because you're kind and thoughtful and totally clueless. Van, you're making Dilandau feel like the girl in the relationship, and he doesn't like it."

Van's mouth hung open. "But... Folken, we play darts and have sword fight and..."

"And you hold back."

"I don't want to hurt him. He..." Van put his head in his hands. "Gods, Folken. He was so weak then. Every time we wrestle and I wrap my arms around him, I remember back when he felt like I could break him. I want to... protect him. I want to show him how special he is to me in everything that I do. I... don't know what else I can do to express that, but to... to..."

"Coddle him?"

Van sighed, a guiltier sound Folken had never heard. "Ah, Folken. I didn't realize it was so obvious. I should have known he'd pick up on it. Gah! But he should talk to me about it instead of giving me the cold shoulder and telling you. Geez. I guess I should go find him or something."

Folken nodded, though he knew Van couldn't see it, and squeezed his brother's hands. "You two still have a lot of things to figure out."

Van groaned, raising his head so Folken could see his eyes. "I know."

"And you also know that I'll be here to help you and Dilandau when you need it."

Van nodded. "Yeah. You and the guys, the Slayers, I mean. Now that I think about it, I think they've been trying to tell me what you just did too. But they should know by now that I don't get subtle."

Folken and Van chuckled together.

"Well." Van stood up and brushed soft wrinkles out of his clothing. "I guess I'll go see if I can find him now. What are you going to do this afternoon?"

Folken shrugged, also standing to walk Van to the door. He was going out himself in a minute. He glanced at the clock on the wall. "Marie wants to try out an outdoor restaurant on the coast. I was supposed to have met her 10 minutes ago."

Van frowned. "I'm sorry, you should have said..."

Folken shook his head. "It's fine. She'll understand." She knows that she's not the only person I'm building a relationship with.

"Ok, I guess. But if she hunts me down, I'm telling her what you said." Van gave Folken a quick hug before turning down the hall in the direction of Dilandau's room. Folken shook his head and removed his lab coat. He draped it over his arm as he walked to Marie's room.

Van had nothing to worry about. Marie would never take out her frustrations with Folken on anybody else but Folken. He gulped before knocking on the woman's door. She was probably dressed and sitting on her bed, tapping her feet and wearing that awful scowl that let Folken know he was in for it.

Lord Dryden told Folken he and Marie sounded like an old married couple. If that was the case, Folken was going to invest in counseling while they were still young.

"Come in."

Folken frowned, trying to analyze the tone of her voice. Did she sound mad, irritated, evil, indifferent? He couldn't tell. He pushed open the door slowly and entered the room.

"Marie?"

The main lights were out. A few tall, unscented candles sat on the bedside table, vanity and dresser. There was a dark shape on the bed that shifted when Folken called Marie's name. Folken moved closer to the bed as the soft candlelight fell on the shape. Marie rose from her lounging position on the bed. Her shoulder length red hair was loose about her shoulders, falling into her eyes. Folken reached out to brush the soft hair from he forehead. "Marie?"

She wore a translucent, indecently short gown that dipped too low in the front. Folken could see the top of her lacy black brassiere and the bottoms of her lacy black panties. Folken was suddenly in need of a very cold shower. He felt hot, sticky and...

Marie tilted her head back, face running over the fingers he'd used to brush her hair back with until her lips met his fingertips. She kissed them.

"Marie, what are you doing? You aren't dressed. I thought we were..." Nervousness shifted in his stomach along with greed. He watched the gown rise to reveal the panties and the tight white flesh above them, and fall to cover it all up again. His hands itched; his body itched.

Marie's green eyes narrowed, and her mouth moved to his fingers again, biting them. "Get naked, now!"

Folken blinked. "Huh?" Everything was moving so slowly. His brain was melting, and he could no longer give intelligible responses. He felt an ache in his groin as the member stirred to life. He wanted...

"The brats are all occupied! It's now or die virgins. Get naked or I'll do it for you!"

Folken felt soft hands and scratchy nails ripping at his clothes. Buttons snapped as the woman peeled him out of his shirt like a fruit. Folken could only stand there stupidly, gazing at her with his mouth open. The brats were all occupied?

Wait. Did that mean... "No interruptions?" Folken came back to himself, unfastening his pants before Marie could get to them. He jumped onto the bed, and they both bounced for a moment before attacking each other. Folken didn't know where to start, but Marie did. She had his underwear off long before he'd figured out how to untie her gown. He laid under her, naked as the day he was born, curious about what was going to happen next. The woman sat on his chest in her lingerie, smirking down at him proudly, like he was some mountain she'd climbed and claimed in the name of Marie.

"How do you want to this, Folken?"

There were different ways to do it? "Ah..."

Her smirk widened into an outright beam, then she laughed. She was laughing at him. Folken glowered. "Oh my gods, Folken. Oh my gods. Don't tell me you... You..." She stopped laughing. "Oh my gods."

Folken licked his lips. Marie's beam faded into a gentle smile, one with no teeth showing, just a small curve of her lips. In the candlelight, Folken thought she'd never looked so beautiful. "You've never done this before."

Folken shook his head.

Marie's head bowed, red hair hiding her face. "I know you're shy. I know you're a gentleman and I have to go so slowly with you, but I never for a moment thought that some nice girl hadn't scooped you up before me. There were no nice girls, Folken?"

"Only a mean red head."

"Oh."

Folken reached up to slick her hair behind her ears. Green eyes frowned at him. "I... I've never been anyone's first, Folken. I've told you this before, and I'm going to say it again. Please don't let me push you to do anything you're not ready for. Let me know, or push me away. I don't... want to hurt you; your first time should never hurt, and you should never feel forced. Do you understand?"

Folken smiled, letting his hands slide from her hair down her back. He gave her a little pull, and her body collapsed on top of his. Forehead to forehead, warm breath brushing each other's cheeks. "You won't hurt me, Marie. I trust you." He wanted... "I want my first time and any other times to be with you."

Marie blinked at him, lashes tickling the skin beneath his eyebrows. She laughed. It started off as a light giggle, but now she was practically roaring. "Ai, Folken, you're the corniest man alive, but you know what? I love you."

Folken didn't know if he should laugh or be insulted. This woman... He looked at her, his beautiful, mocking, intelligent Marie. This woman loved him, and all Folken wanted to do right then was love her back. "I love you too. Even if you think I'm too corny to be seen with you in public."

"We'll buy you a mask." Marie smothered Folken's reply with her mouth, pressing her lips against his. That was fine with Folken. He didn't need to talk. He hadn't had a good comeback anyway, so why ruin the moment? He rolled with her, over the bed, careful not to fall off. He found the hook on the front of her brassiere and pulled it loose. He worked it off her shoulders as she kissed his neck and chest. This was nice.

He was on top of her; she was on top of him. They struggled for dominance. She'd asked what position he liked, and he decided he wanted to be on top. As it turned out, Marie wanted to be on top too. The bed groaned and shook as they bounced and jerked. The comforter was on the floor.

_Squeak. Honk. Scratch! Eeeeeerrrrk_!

Folken frowned. That was a rather unusual noise for a bed to make. The bed shuddered.

"Folken?" Marie sounded alarmed.

Folken stilled.

"Folken, I think the bed's..."

They both yelled as the bed crashed to the floor. Folken wrapped his arms around Marie, collapsing his body over hers to protect her from the toppling canopy.

"Oh my gods!" Folken tried to sit up, but stopped at a sudden sharp pain in his ear and Marie's yelp.

"Oh shit."

They'd pulled off every article of clothing they wore, but not their jewelry.

"Folken, is that your earring?" Marie asked, voice strained.

"Marie, is now a good time to tell you how attractive I find your nipple ring? When did you have it done?"

"That... ouch... that last time Pearce and I...shit... went out on the town. He... ow... got one too. "

Folken would have laughed if the bottom half of his ear didn't feel like it was bleeding. "Marie, I can't see and my arms are under you, so you're going to have to untangle us."

"No can do. I can't move. You're on my arms too, and I need both of them to get the damn nipple ring out. It's got a ball and screw."

"You can jiggle your arms free!"

"When I jingle, my tits move!"

"What possessed you to get your breasts pierced?"

"You just said it was sexy!"

"Oh Folken!"

Folken tensed and Marie hissed beneath him. They heard shuffling outside the door and many, many familiar giggles.

"Dilandau?" Folken somehow kept his voice calm.

"Is the doctor in?" Dilandau started laughing as soon as he said it. Folken recognized Guimel's voice, coaching Dilandau on what to say.

Oh gods. Were all of the brats outside the door? Hadn't Marie said they were all... occupied... Folken's eyes narrowed. "Dilandau, we've had a mishap with Marie's bed, and I'd really hate to think you had anything to do with this."

More laughter.

"Oi vay," Marie groaned. "I let Dallet in here yesterday to raise the head of my bed. Damn acid reflux. They must have come in and sawed the legs or something. Did you little punks sabotage my bed?"

If they laughed any harder they would explode, and Folken wouldn't mourn their passing.

"How did they know when to do this?" Marie was grumbling. "How did they know when I'd try and when you'd come..."

"Van," Folken said. Van had been coming to speak to him at the same times each day, finding some reason to ask about his relationship with Marie. The little brat was keeping tabs on Folken.

"Pearce," Marie sighed. "He's been confiding in me lately, and I've been using us as an example... dammit! Pearce!"

"Van!"

"They made me!" Van shouted.

"The prank would have been expanded to include me, if I didn't help them get you," Pearce said.

Folken wished he could glare at the door, but he couldn't move his head. Damn kids. Damn Pearce! Why? "Why?"

"Well, Folken, remember all those months ago, right before we joined you here in Astoria, there was a little incident involving a sprinkler system you installed in my Oreades along with a large water hose."

Folken's eyes widened. The sprinklers Dilandau kept alluding to when he'd first gotten there. Folken had no idea what he was talking about... because he'd never mentioned them in the same context as his Oreades. _Those_ sprinklers and _that_ hose.

Oh.

"They worked?" Folken couldn't help but ask. Marie shifted beneath him then hissed in pain. She'd wanted to smack him, Folken could tell by the way her arm muscles bunched up beneath him.

"Oh yeah. They worked, and I suppose I should be thanking you. I might have maimed my sister, if they hadn't. So, thanks from Celena and me."

Marie snorted. "Nice way to show gratitude, brat! Now..."

Now what? They were completely naked and in a very compromising position. They couldn't very well ask the boys to come in and help them.

They looked at each other.

Shit.

"Well, we've bothered you two love birds enough for one afternoon. Have a pleasant romp, try to forget about our intrusion and your new lowered altitude."

They heard feet moving away from the door.

No. Wait.

"Folken, we need help!"

"But look at us!"

"I don't care! I'm not going to die with a virgin stuck to my boob! Boys! Dilandau! Come back here!"

Folken grimaced. He'd instinctively ducked his head a bit at Marie's yells. His ear was going to rip. He just knew it.

"Dammit Folken!" Marie squealed, her voice very high.

They laid there, Folken on top of Marie, Folken's head half turned and resting on Marie's left breast, and Marie flat on her back.

"Somehow, this isn't quite how I imagined my first time," Folken said with a light titter.

Marie snorted. "Yeah, but look at this way. You'll never forget it... and neither will the maid, when she finds us like this in the morning."

The morning? Folken shut his eyes.

"On an even lighter note, things can only get better from here, so you can look forward to things to come," Marie said. "Ah, ah, you moved, you're tugging..."

Folken readjusted his head with a gasp. "Better?"

"Y–yeah."

"Can second times be as special as firsts?"

"I think any second time will be better than this first, Love," Marie said and Folken smiled.

'Love'. He liked that. He liked a lot of things about his current life, current situation excluded, but... He smiled at the fact that Van had been in on the joke, working with Dilandau and the Slayers and Pearce, all people Folken was attached to. He'd gone from a man resigned to death to a man who wanted to wake up in the morning and face the day with the palace cleaning staff gawking at his naked hide.

Had love done this to him? Had love made him optimistic?

"Folken, I know this is a bad time to bring this up, but... I'm hungry."

Marie's stomach chose that moment to growl and Folken's echoed it in sympathy. He laughed and Marie joined him.

Love had made him realistic. This was life, and no outside forces governed it. There was no longer an Emperor who tried to control what people did. Folken had no more desire to make the world a perfect place. Perfection was false. Life was flawed, and the flaws... he laughed as his stomach growled again... were what gave life its thrills.

"Marie, I know this is a bad time to bring this up, but..."

"Hm?"

"Present situation aside, we've done a good job here."

"What? Won a war, saved a life, made a home, and set ourselves free?"

"Yeah." Folken said with a soft sigh. All of that and more. "And I'm..."

"Happy?"

"Yeah," Folken said. "Are you?"

"Of course. Folken, present situation aside, you've done good job, period."

"Yeah?" He felt warm.

"Yes."

They lay there, warm bodies pressed against each others, breathing lightly. They heard voices in the hall again, but didn't call for help.

_**Il Finito...**_

****

* * *

Author's Note: Well, what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Either way, let me know. Please review. ONE MORE MIGUEL ONE-SHOT AND SHORT EPILOGUE TO GO. I will put them up within the week. Thanks so much guys!

* * *


	39. OneShot 4:The Courtship of Miguel

Thanks for the beta Cat!

* * *

**The Courtship of Captain Miguel Lavariel**

Severed One-Shot #4

* * *

"I don't do blind dates, Viole," Miguel said flatly. He studied the green leather boots he wore in a full length mirror, turning this way and that. "And I don't do green boots either."

Miguel turned, but didn't see Viole. Only that imp could get lost in a shoe store. He sighed and sat on a long leather bench to tug off the ugly boots that were too tight in the ankle.

"Boots not to your liking, young sir? Perhaps, another color? I have some in canary yellow that would look positively fetching with your tan complexion."

Miguel stared at the lanky store attendant, searching his horsy face for a hint of a smile. The man had to be joking. Yellow? Since when did nobles wear yellow boots– or green for that matter? Ai, this was the last shoe store Miguel went in with Viole, even though it did come highly recommended by a few palace nobles as well. Apparently, _Bruce's_, was the place to shop. Unfortunately, the moderately sized shoe store just outside of the market place was lacking in Miguel's opinion. He would stick to the carts and the hole in the wall place Guimel and Dallet liked to frequent. It might have looked terrible on the outside, but their shoes were of good quality and in normal colors.

"No, that's ok. Do you have anything in a light brown or navy blue that don't come up so high on the thigh and go so narrow in the ankle?" _And without any sort of weird decoration? _Bruce's more neutrally colored collection featured feathers, beads, fringes, and pointy toes.

"Hm... I'd have to look in the back, milord. I'll only be a second."

The man left and Miguel went back to fighting with the boots. He pulled at the right one. It didn't seem to want to come off without keeping part of his leg.

"Don't pull so hard; you'll lose a foot." Viole plopped down beside him, sticking out a leg for Miguel to admire the orange clog on his foot. "What do you think?"

"It's you," Miguel said wryly. "But where do you plan to wear them? No circuses will be in town to pick you up for months."

"Ha. Ha," Viole said. Viole kicked off the shoes and wiggled his bare toes. "So, did you find anything in here you like?"

Miguel stared at Viole.

"Me either. This is the last time I listen to Lord Crumpstead about a place. I should have known better. The guy wears leopard print, but I promised him I'd check this place out. I bet he'll ask the clerks if I came in or not."

Miguel shook his head, then cheered as one of the boots came off. His right leg and foot sang. They could breathe. Now, for the left. "You should stop being so nice to the old people."

"Aw... but they like it when I come talk to them."

"Because no one else really does," Miguel said, then sighed. It was sad, thinking about the old men and women of the Court who were ignored by the younger members. Just because they repeated themselves and forgot your name every five minutes, didn't mean they deserved to be treated with any less respect. They needed attention to. Miguel didn't want to be the one to give it, though. He hated old people. He hated the way they smelled, moved, talked, pinched, and called him by the names of their children– they scared him.

"Exactly. It's... it makes me sad. I never knew my grandparents. Mother dear didn't want anything to do with them. They were too old and forgetful to bother with. Most of them live on their own in big houses, because their spouses have died and their children have moved on. They have get togethers and drink tea, and knit, and smoke, but they seem so isolated from everyone else."

"So, you and Dilandau volunteer to be their grandchildren?" Miguel asked.

Viole grinned. "Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it. The cookies are great. Lady Constance even managed to find a cookie Dilandau likes. You should have seen everyone's faces when he asked for another one."

Miguel almost fell over. "Dilandau likes sweets now?"

"Well, I guess you could say that. Though, I don't consider those cookies proper sweets. They're sweetened with honey and dried berries. I say they're mounds of crunchy oatmeal, but oh well. He even dunks them in milk."

"Maybe I'll join you guys one day." _So I can witness Dilandau eating cookies with milk_.

The world would be ending soon, Miguel was sure of it.

"You should, and... you should go on this date. It'll be fun." Viole nudged him in the ribs. "You haven't been on a date, since– well damn, Miguel. When is the last time you went on a date?"

Miguel shrugged. "It's been a while, Viole."

"It's been since the Vione, Miguel. You would think with all the girls that throw themselves at you, you'd go out with at least one of them."

"I go out with them."

"In groups of three. Those aren't dates, that's you flattering the ladies, but not letting them close."

"So, I'm not Dallet, Guimel, or..." Miguel shook his head, "Shesta." Gods, Shesta. Shesta didn't go out anywhere near as often as Dallet or Guimel, but he did get around.

"So... let's change that. Come on, please try it. It'll make Lady Penelope so happy. She was the noble matchmaker in her day, and she retired to nurse her husband. Now that he's dead, she needs something to do again."

One of these days Miguel was going to introduce Viole to a thing called "tact". "Shouldn't the woman be grieving the death of her husband, instead of meddling in other people's affairs?"

"_Pshaw_... he's been dead for a year, and... she never liked him anyway. Her marriage was an example of a bad match, and she made it her life to create good matches. A lot of people have forgotten about her now, but she figures if she hooks up a few people around the castle, nobles will start requesting her services again. So, Dilandau and I have been signing people up. Gatty's doing it."

"Well, there you go. May Gatty find true love."

"Shesta's doing it too."

"Then what do you need me for?" Miguel asked.

"Because..." Viole slung an arm around Miguel, "when we did a poll of who the single ladies of the Court thought was the most eligible bachelor, 74 voted for you."

Miguel's eyes widened. "You did a poll?"

Viole nodded. "Yup. You're a regular Adonis, Miguel. Thirty women said they would sign up for the service, if you signed up too."

"You're... trying to use me to sell a product?" Miguel couldn't believe his ears. "Am I an object to you?" Of all the nerve, but... "Seventy-four percent, really?" Miguel couldn't help but feel flattered.

"All ready to sign on the dotted line," Viole said, squeezing Miguel's shoulder.

Miguel smiled. Ladies of good breeding had such excellent taste. "Well, I suppose, since it's for a good cause. Lady Penelope is a respectable woman, after all, and I wouldn't want to see any project of hers fail. If my participation truly can make that much of a difference to her business, it would be a crime for me to refuse."

All right. So Miguel knew he sounded like a pompous ass, but every now and again a man had to preen. Seventy-four percent, one point shy of three-fourths, of the noble women in Court thought Miguel was the most eligible bachelor around. He was more popular than Sir Allen. Hell, he was more popular than Pearce!

"So, you'll do it?"

Miguel sighed. "I guess, but do you think I could actually see the lists and who Lady Penelope might be trying to put me with? Perhaps, I could offer some suggestions."

"Miguel, you can't pick your own date. That's Lady Pee's job. The whole point is to let her do the work for you. You just show up dressed and ready to work your Miguel charm."

Miguel looked down at the green boot he still wore. "I'm still not crazy about it being a blind date, but I know everyone in Court, so it should be all right."

"Really?" Viole's face was going to split in half if he grinned any wider.

"Yes, really."

"Thanks, Miguel! I can't wait to tell her! She wants to set you up for this Thursday."

This Thursday? "So soon?"

"Yeah, we uh... kinda already assumed I'd get you to say yes, so we kinda already penciled you into the schedule."

"Do you _kinda already _know who I'm going out with?" a muscle near Miguel's mouth twitched.

Viole shook his head. "Lady Penelope keeps all of that top secret. Nobody knows but her. She did tell me that the young lady is nice and has been a bit lonely lately, since her royal crush has been swept off his feet by someone else."

Miguel sighed. Another girl in love with a prince betrothed to a princess. Those dates were usually disastrous pity parties and he was fresh out of handkerchiefs. "Viole..."

"Ah, ah, you already said you'd do it, Miguel. Just ah... remember to pack some hankies. You can borrow a few of mine, if you want."

Miguel glared and Viole dimpled and gave an innocent shrug. "She might be cute."

Miguel groaned. "I have a feeling you're going to owe me for this one."

Viole laughed and gestured at their setting. "That's why I brought you here. I was going to bribe you with shoes. Did you, ah, see any you liked? Those boots looked...interesting on ya. If you don't like the green, they have them in yellow."

Miguel gave Viole a look that could silence a toddler. Calmly he swung his left leg into Viole's lap. "Get this thing off me, and I won't kill you for that suggestion. If you want to bribe me, find out how to get to Guimel and Dallet's hole in the wall from here. I saw a pair of ankle boots with a matching scabbard a few weeks ago that I want."

* * *

Miguel agreed to meet his date at _Le Vier's_. He wanted to avoid prying eyes at or around the castle, namely, his friends. The annoying lot had all but walked him to the castle gates. Miguel figured they all had bets on how ugly Miguel's date was going to be. Miguel swallowed hard and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. He usually wore his cotton shirts unbuttoned past his collarbone, but... Miguel pictured all of the ladies he knew at Court, trying to think of the loneliest seeming one. Lady Nagle came to mind, long nose, small eyes and a beetle brow. All he needed was for her, or someone like her, to think he was trying to impress her; she'd never go away.

This was such a bad idea... for a good cause. Lady Penelope had made him a raspberry crumb cake, she was so happy.

_For Lady Penelope and her raspberry crumb cakes. On ward, man_.

Miguel approached the pale oak double doors of Le Vier's. The classy restaurant had no windows, so Miguel couldn't see inside, but it had a clear, flat roof with a glass ceiling beneath. Nighttime patrons gazed at the stars while they ate, daytime customers counted clouds, and, sometimes, they all watched rain dance over their heads. Miguel wondered what they did if it snowed? Did they pay someone to plow the roof as well as the sidewalk?

A nicely dressed couple, the tall man in a dress shirt with a long tailed vest and the woman in a gown that fell past her knees, walked past him. The man held the door open for the woman and Miguel. Miguel blushed and let the woman enter before him.

"Thank you."

The man nodded and stepped in after Miguel, letting the door close.

They'd entered a small lobby, a wall separating it from the rest of the restaurant. A stern looking host in a blue collared shirt buttoned up to the neck sat behind a long desk, next to a single glass door. He held a quill over an opened notebook.

The man and woman walked to the desk and gave the man their names. The host smiled and nodded to someone. Miguel almost gasped at the man who seemed to step out of the wall by the door. All the brown he wore had made him blend in with the surroundings.

Miguel shuddered. Being around so much wood made him nervous. He kept wanting to pat himself on the back for not letting Dilandau or Celena walk him here. This place wouldn't have lasted 5 minutes with those two present. Dilandau always seemed to have matches, and Celena, a flask of kerosene.

Celena and that flask. It was unbecoming of a lady to carry about metal liquor canisters, even if they didn't have liquor in them. Celena didn't care. She liked whipping the thing out at parties or dinners to see the reactions of Sir Allen's colleagues. One day, Sir Allen was going to figure out Celena wasn't going to conform to that lifestyle and stop dragging her to those places, or maybe he would keep trying until Celena killed him. Miguel had seen it in her eyes one day, a flash of murder, and for a second, he'd been scared. It was like Viole had poured snow down his throat without warning. His insides froze, his neck and spine went rigid and his fingers crept toward his sword.

That... was power, and Celena commanded it as well as Dilandau did. Miguel had been moved.

"Young sir?"

Miguel blinked. The host was calling him, looking bored. "Yes, sorry. Miguel Lavariel."

The man nodded and ran a skinny finger down the list in his notebook. He stopped a few lines down and glanced up at Miguel with an amused smile. His sleepy hazel eyes sparkled. "Ah, Captain Lavariel. Your... companion is already here. Enjoy your evening, sir."

Miguel narrowed his eyes at the man. What was so amusing? Miguel tried to read the man's notebook, wanting to see the name next to his. _Damn_, he knew he should have paid attention when Viole had been trying to teach him to read upside down.

"Could you tell me who my... companion for the evening is, perchance? I'm participating in a... social project, and the identity of my date is a mystery to me. Is it... Lady Nagle?" _I will give this man all the gold in my pockets, if he keeps me from walking into a room with her in it._

The host smiled. "Lady Penelope would not be pleased with me, if I disclose the identity of your guest. She made it perfectly clear to me that her clients were to meet each other at the table."

Miguel made a fist and wanted to slam it down on the table. "I have gold. I will give it to you, if you can tell me it's not Lady Nagle!"

"You'll find your date at the table in the far right corner. There will be pink carnation on the table. Have a pleasant evening, Captain Lavariel."

_Oh gods. It's her. I know it's her. Why else would that man be smirking like that? Unless it's someone worse. _

_Ai._ Cold sweat broke across his forehead and he undid another button. He needed to sit down, but he didn't know if he wanted to do it inside. Maybe he should go. He could say he was ill. He certainly felt ill and probably looked it too.

The doorman was grinning at him, thin lips skinning back from his teeth like an orange being peeled. The door was held open for him and blast of cool air hit him. A soft violin/cello duet was being played. Miguel gulped and stepped into a square, cozy room full of small round tables large enough to accommodate for two. The room was lit by single candles on the tables and candelabras on walls covered with burgundy drapes. A Celena hazard indeed.

Miguel was tempted to run to every table and wall and snuff out the flames. Hm, not only would he avoid being roasted alive, but he could sneak out without Nasty Nagle seeing him.

Couples smiled at Miguel as he passed, nibbling on entrees and appetizers and sipping wine and imported water. Did everyone here know he was meeting a blind date? He'd never seen so many smiling faces.

"That's one of the boys that won the war for us."

"Isn't he a friend of Sir Allen's young siblings?"

Miguel blushed, hurrying to the corner the host said his... _please don't be Nagle_... date would be in. Miguel liked attention, but he didn't like crowds of people staring at him. It reminded him too much of Cape _J'ecare_, home. People who stared were usually plotting to kill you in your sleep, putting themselves one step closer to being heir of the family fortune.

A pink carnation at the edge of a table. Miguel blinked at it and then dragged his eyes to the person already seated.

Furry.

Furry and twelve!

Miguel gapped at his _date_. Ooh, Viole was going to pay and pay dearly for this, as were Dilandau and Lady Penelope. Miguel was going to kill them.

"Isn't it past your bedtime?"

Miguel scowled at Van's little cat girl–what was her name?– Merry? Marilyn?

"No, Lord Van lets me stay up past ten," the girl said with a smile that showed sharp canines. "You're Avenger, right?"

"Avenger?" Miguel blinked.

"No, that's just a nickname. Um, Michael?"

"Miguel," he ground out. What an annoying child. How dare she not know his name. But then again, he didn't know hers either. "And your name is...?"

"Merle."

Miguel sighed, fingering the carnation, its petals were a bit damp. Merle had brushed her hair off her forehead and pinned it back with white, rose-shaped clips. She wore a matching white dress that covered her toes and probably touched the ground when she stood. The neckline was high and the bodice fit tight to show off the girl's slender build rather than bring attention to her small bosom.

Miguel didn't know the cat girl had anything beside those indecently short dresses she wore around the palace. It was a change, a nice change. He decided to sit down.

"Well, you look very nice," he said. A waiter came and poured fresh water into one of the empty wine glasses by his hand.

"What will you be drinking sir?"

"Any sweet white wine with a strawberry please. I trust your selection and your taste."

The waiter nodded at him with a pleased smile and left.

"I hate wine," Merle said. "I stick to water and juice at the castle banquets I'm allowed to go to."

Miguel raised a brow. "So does your King. I wonder when he'll grow out of it."

Merle narrowed her eyes. "We weren't raised to drink it like some of you. When you're all bald, fat alcoholics, Lord Van and I will be the ones poking fun."

Miguel nearly choked on his water. "Bald and fat? I'll have you to know..."

"That something makes you special from other drunks and you'll never get bald or fat?"

"I'm not a drunkard. A few glasses of wine with a meal doesn't make someone an alcoholic."

"But I don't see how it makes them high and mighty either," Merle said. "You drink wine because you like the taste. If I don't like the taste, why should I drink it if it doesn't make me high and mighty?"

Miguel hummed. She had a point. "I think you haven't had the right wine."

"I think it all tastes like rotten grapes."

Miguel shrugged. "Some red wines do, especially the cheap ones. Van should take you along when he and Lord Dilandau go wine tasting next month."

Merle made a face. "I don't like to interrupt their dates. They forget I'm there, but then again, that's nothing new. Lord Van's always forgetting I'm there, now that he's got that pretty silver doll to play with."

Pretty silver doll? Miguel sputtered. "Merle, don't..."

"What? He's pretty with dolly eyelashes and hair that flips up under the bottom. I keep expecting to push his tummy and hear him squeak. Real people aren't supposed to look like that, but then again, there's Sir Allen, and that nasty Celena, and Princess Millerna, and you. You look like a prince doll complete with accessories. I bet you've got a handkerchief in one of your pockets."

Miguel's hand almost went to his back, right pocket. "So?"

The waiter returned before Merle could respond, with a tray. He set down a tall glass of bubbly white wine with slices of strawberry resting at the top of the stem. A basket of bread and a plate with a dollop of shell-shaped butter were placed in the middle of the table.

Merle unrolled a burgundy napkin from her silverware and pulled out a long butter knife. "So, you fit the stereotype of a snotty noble-boy."

"Noble-boy? Snotty?"

"Mmhmm." Merle spread butter on a slice of hot white bread. "I saw your face as you came to the table. You were afraid you'd been set up with someone beneath you, and... you think you were. That's snotty."

"That's not snotty! I was afraid of spending my evening with a cow. Anybody would be afraid of that, and as for finding you beneath me, well... All right, you're how old, twelve?"

"Thirteen."

"Thirteen. I am..."

"Two years older than me. There's not an ocean of difference between our ages. In fact, considering that girls mature faster than boys, my thirteen is your fifteen."

"Girls mature faster than boys? Are you sure? Explain Celena Schezar." Miguel had her there.

"Freak of nature. Lord Dilandau will attest to that. He doesn't claim her half the time."

Hm. She had him. "All right. I'll give you that."

Miguel took some bread, wincing at how warm it was. He broke it in half, watching the steam rise and sniffed it. It was nutty.

"It's good," Merle said, "and the butter is sweet."

Miguel tried the butter. It was sweet. He washed it down with a sip of strawberry wine. "I think I could eat bread and butter and refill my wine glass all night."

"And then you'll end up a fat, bald drunkard," Merle said, taking another piece of bread and batting her eyes at Miguel's scowl innocently.

The waiter came back. "Are we ready to order?"

"Yes, the gentleman will have more bread and wine," Merle said sweetly.

"And the lady will have juice and butter."

They traded glares and the waiter frowned.

"Give us a few more minutes please."

* * *

Miguel took Merle to the sweet shop Viole liked to frequent, buying her taffy and licorice, and tucking a green apple lollipop in his pocket.

Merle chewed on a red licorice rope and walked with a bounce in her step a few paces in front of Miguel. Miguel watched the large bow on the back of the girl's dress, sway to and fro as her white dress swished, low heeled dress shoes clicked against the ground. Cute. Millerna must have dressed her.

All in all, the evening had been surprisingly... cute.

Merle was no Lady Millicent or Lady Ashleigh who could go on about military science and philosophers, but her conversation wasn't dull either.

"Hey Miguel, you're walking too slow!"

Miguel lengthened his strides and fell into step with Merle.

"This is fun," Merle said.

Miguel nodded. "Yeah, it is."_ Not what I expected, but better than I dreaded, and fun_.

"I haven't had much fun lately. No one has time for me, really. I never thought I'd say this, but I miss Hitomi. At least she talked to me."

Miguel frowned. Hitomi and Merle were friends? "I didn't know you two..."

"Oh, don't get me wrong. She and I got on each other's nerves. I couldn't wait for her to go home and leave me alone with Van, but... there's no alone with Van anymore, and now I'm just alone."

"Have you told him how you feel?"

"When do I ever get a chance to? He's either off on business or off with his boyfriend. He runs himself ragged trying to make time for Silver Doll, but not for me."

Miguel scratched his neck. He didn't know what to say to that. Van and Dilandau were busy guys trying to make a new relationship work. Miguel knew that if he didn't work with Dilandau, he might not see him all that much either. "But after all of the war affairs are settled and Van goes back to Fanelia..."

"Then he'll be busy playing king and as soon as that calms down, Silver Doll, Lord Folken and the rest of you will come."

That was true. Fanelia needed work, lots of it, and since Lord Folken and the Dragonslayers were partially responsible for its downfall, it was their duty to help fix it. Where did a little girl fit into all that work?

"I'll talk to him."

"Huh?" Half a licorice whip hung from Merle's lips.

"I see Van everyday. I'll speak to him on your behalf. He shouldn't ignore his friends. Friends are everything. In fact, I'll do you an even better service. I'll talk to Lord Dilandau on your behalf and let him tear into Van about friendship."

Merle's eyes were wide. "You can't... don't do that. I don't want Lord Van to get mad at me for complaining and getting him yelled at by his boyfriend."

"Give us some credit, Kitty-Kat." Miguel reached to pet her head and jerked his hand back when she snapped at him. "Lord Dilandau won't tell Van you tattled on him. He'll act like he noticed you're not around."

"I don't know if I'd feel good about Lord Van only paying attention to me because Lord Dilandau said something to him," Merle said, looking pouty.

Miguel groaned. _Argh, women_. "He won't only be paying attention to you because he got fussed at. He likes you right? He's your friend?"

Merle nodded.

"Then he's going to pay attention because he'll know he's been a horrible friend and he wants to make it up to you. That's how Van is. He's got tunnel vision when it comes to Lord Dilandau. He needs to learn how and when to turn it off. Trust me, he'll appreciate being reminded that he has a friend not touched by all of our...Slayer-weirdness."

Merle giggled. "Slayer-weirdness?"

Miguel shrugged. "The only way to describe it. You have to be a Slayer to get it. We're a one of a kind custom set of... nuts."

Merle laughed. "Did you just call yourself a weird nut?"

Miguel thought about it and chuckled. "Yes, I did, and if you repeat that, I'll kill you along with Viole, Lord Dilandau and Lady Penelope for setting us up on this date."

Merle frowned, looking hurt. "I thought you were having fun?"

"I am, but it's the principle of the thing. They knew what I would think when I saw you. They wanted a good laugh, and you... you wanted..."

"A good laugh too. The look on your face was pretty funny when you came in," Merle said lightly. "And what did you want, Miguel?"

Miguel looked up at the dark sky. "Nothing really, just a nice night, a cute girl, a walk."

"Well?"

Miguel nodded. "Yes, I got what I wanted too. Now, let's head back to the castle, before your bedtime, Kitty-Kat."

Merle nipped his hand and Miguel yelped.

"Drop the nickname, Avenger."

"Avenger? Who came up with that?" Miguel demanded and Merle began to hum, ignoring him.

"Merle, who came up with that name? Merle?"

* * *

Miguel escorted Merle to the stairway that led to her hall, their arms linked at the elbow.

"Thank you for a delightful evening," Miguel said with a deep bow.

Merle rolled her eyes. "Thank you for a laugh." She curtsied with skill. She'd done this before.

"Miguel?"

"Yes?"

Merle was halfway up the stairs. She paused, holding the rail. "Are we friends now?"

Miguel blinked. Well, he'd had a good time. She was like the little sister he never wanted. Maybe. Miguel wasn't one to just give out the title of friend to anyone. "Maybe after a few more outings."

Merle stared at him a moment, before she beamed. She ran down the stairs, and threw her arms around him, making him back up a few steps. She gazed up at him. "You're like the big brother I never wanted, you know?"

Miguel snorted. "To unwanted siblings."

"I wish we had wine, so we could toast."

"I thought you didn't like wine. It makes you bald and fat, remember?"

"Then we'll toast juice."

"I'd rather be fat," Miguel said with a scowl.

"Suit yourself, but nobody's afraid of a pudgy Avenger." Merle released him and pranced back up the stairs, holding her skirts.

Miguel gaped. "Who came up with that name?"

He only got giggles as a reply. He rolled his eyes with a half smile on his lips. "Goodnight, Kitty Kat."

Miguel turned on his heel to head down the hall to his own staircase, and was met halfway by, "Celena?"

The blond girl arched a brow at him as Miguel ogled her. She... she smelled good, like watermelon, and for gods' sake she'd combed her hair. It was half up, and half down. Her lips sparkled with a bit of pink gloss and her eyes were accented with dark pencil. She still wore boy's clothing, but it was clean boy's clothing and well-fitted to her lean body.

"You through staring, Miguel?"

"Huh? Oh, I... sorry. You're wearing makeup." Miguel had to look down at his boots to keep himself from staring at her again.

"Princess Eries and Millerna cornered me. We made a deal. If I wore a little of this gunk, I didn't have to wear a skirt and hose."

"Hm." Miguel nodded, sounded about right. "Well, you look... nice."

Celena was quiet, and Miguel glanced up at her again. A little smile graced her lips. "Yeah?"

Miguel nodded. "Yes."

Celena pulled at the few tendrils falling over her forehead as bangs. "I get a lot of catcalls from bums; those guys whistle at anything. I don't think I'm ugly, but I'm no Millerna or Eries. So, when you say stuff like that, it makes me feel good."

Miguel cocked his head slightly, studying the girl. Was she blushing? There was a faint hint of pink in her cheeks that usually wasn't there. Miguel brushed his fingers against her face, checking for heat and the pink deepened.

Miguel let his hand fall to his pocket. He felt the hard curve of a green apple lollipop. He pulled the candy out and held it out to Celena. "I got this for you."

"Allen hates when I eat these. They turn my mouth green and I look like I've eaten tree moss."

Miguel nodded. He knew. He'd seen and agreed with Sir Allen, it was unattractive.

"Thanks!" Celena punched him in the shoulder, hard, and he winced.

But it was Celena.

"Want to take a walk? There are still a few places open by the pier. I'll buy you a drink," Miguel said.

Celena tucked the lollipop in her mouth, letting the stick rest on her lower lip like a cigarette. "You're buying? Is this a date?"

Miguel shrugged. Why not? He was supposed to go on a date today, and instead he'd ended up with a babysitting job that paid in hugs and licorice. Merle was a nice kid. He'd see her again, but Lady Penelope had fixed him up with the wrong person.

"Yeah, it's date."

**The End**

* * *

Author's Note: Well... (sweat drop) how'd I do? I know you'll let me know...cough... Macky...cough... ;) and anyone else still here to read this lol. Epilogue next... (sniff sniff). Please review.

* * *


	40. Epilogue

Author's Note: Well, this is it. Thank you to everyone who's been around, is still around, or even just joining me for the duration and completion of this story :). It has been a long journey and we've finally reached our destination. For all the people who thought I'd never finish this, myself included, here you go, lol! I hope everyone's had a good time; I know I have.

Thank you for all of the reviews; your comments have kept me and this story going. Thank you, Cat, for being my extra pair of eyes and giving me advice and encouragment.

So, at a month shy of four years, here are the final pages of Severed.

* * *

Epilogue

"_Bring him in."_

_The man stood just outside the double doors and was walking into the room before the military escort reached him. The man glanced around the dilapidated room and bit back a sneer of disdain. Weary looking soldiers in ragged, hand-me-down fatigues sat at a chipped wooden table. A fat man was at the head. His uniform looked newer than those of his soldiers and rusty medals were pinned to his breast pockets._

_The man stopped a few steps before he reached the fat general and knelt, bowing his head._

"_You are the one with information on new energist mines?"_

"_Yes sir," the man kept his head bowed. "I also have military information, layouts of various territories and enemy strongholds, plus extensive knowledge of Zaibach technology and experiments."_

"_You know how they build their flying guymelefs and about their magic?" The Fat General's upper lip beaded with sweat._

"_Sir, I know where the Zaibach Sorcerers have gone into hiding. I've been to the place several times during my service with Zaibach."_

_Fat General rubbed his extra chin, sizing the man before him up. "Rise, young man."_

_The man rose to his feet, keeping his head bowed in deference._

"_You betray your own country to bring us this information."_

"_My country no longer exists thanks to Astoria and her Allies."_

"_And you are aware that we were once Allies of Astoria, and aided in the downfall of Zaibach?" Fat General asked._

"_Yes sir, and I am also aware that during the battle you broke your allegiance. You wish to bring greatness to your own country, and to do that, you must bring down those that destroyed mine."_

_Fat General narrowed his eyes. "You have a personal vendetta against someone?"_

_The man smiled. "Against a few someones actually, but I am not thinking of them now. I simply want to avenge my country, and..."_

"_Make a name for yourself?" Fat General chuckled. He rose from his chair with a grunt. The chair seemed to sag in relief. Fat General stood eye to eye with the young man. "I respect your motivation, but tell me why I should trust you?"_

_The man raised his head and smiled, revealing even white teeth. "Can you really trust any man you haven't fought beside?"_

_Fat General stared, then laughed heartily. He gazed around at the apprehensive faces of his men, then back at the young man with the nice smile. "I suppose we soldiers do only tend to trust our comrades in arms. Does this mean we must stage a battle with you fighting at our side before we can present you to our king as a worthy advisor?"_

"_Do as you see fit. I will prove myself to you in the language we soldiers understand, and then I will help bring riches and power to Basram."_

"_And riches and power to yourself?"_

_The young man's smile widened. "To everyone involved. Zaibach was not able to finish its ultimate project. The Four Generals were too busy listening to the words of an insane old man to pay attention to what was really going on around them. The scientific discoveries, the excavations of new power sites, the new technologies in the making. Zaibach was about innovation. We were going to bring Gaia out of its stone ages, and somehow Fate and Destiny made our leaders lose those ideals. Basram will become the new Zaibach, the better Zaibach without an Emperor to ruin it."_

"_And with your information, you believe this poor country can do all that?" Fat General asked._

"_With my information, we can find the people who made a poor country into the feared Zaibach you knew."_

_Fat General grunted and looked back at his men again. Some of the exhaustion was gone from their eyes. A few sat up straighter; some grinned. _

_Fat General nodded and turned back to the young man. "You use pretty words and spin pretty tales, young man. I still don't know what kind of a man you are, but it's not up to me to decide if you should serve Basram. I can only deem you worthy to meet with our king."_

_The man nodded. "Yes sir."_

_Fat General appraised him longer. "I'll set up the appointment. Until then, you can stay in our barracks."_

"_Thank you, sir."_

"_I'll need to put your name on the temporary roster, so I can give you a room assignment. What's your name, soldier?"_

"_Isaac. Martin Isaac."_

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Author's Note: So... what's the final verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Anyway, let me know. Please review :) I hope you enjoyed the conclusion, and thanks so much for reading. Take care.

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